You Die; I Die - Love Poems - Part 4 by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

8. NO PERMISSIONS 

The clouds didn’t need even the most capricious of permission whatsoever; to torrentially diffuse intounrelenting thunderbolts of ecstatically golden rain,

The rose didn’t need even the most infinitesimal of permission whatsoever; to grandiloquently culminate into a fountain of ebullient scent; stupendously

mystify every iota of the bedraggled atmosphere,

The grass didn’t need even the most spurious of permission whatsoever; to euphorically tingle traumatically dreary soles; miraculously metamorphose all swelteringly dolorous into a cistern of rhapsodic freshness,

The sheep didn’t need even the most mercurial of permission whatsoever; to leave behind a trail of immaculate belonging; profusely inundate the disastrously commercial arena with meadows of glorious innocuousness,

The stars didn’t need even the most parsimonious of permission whatsoever; to resplendently twinkle all night; timelessly deluge the ghastly curtainspread of

sullen darkness; with whirlwinds of optimistic light,

The Sun didn’t need even the most diminutive of permission whatsoever; to flamboyantly blaze through every quarter of this colossal Universe; ubiquitously

disseminate its spell of enchanting optimism to every dwelling besieged with horrendous despair,

The mountains didn’t need even the most tiniest of permission whatsoever; to compassionately sequester the infirm in their affable belly; tower majestically

as harbingers of irrefutable solidarity; for centuries immemorial,

The bees didn’t need even the most obfuscated of permission whatsoever; to evolve into royal whirlpools of bountiful honey; infiltrate the lugubrious complexion of the dusty afternoon; with melodiously spell binding honey,

The waves didn’t need even the most insignificant of permission whatsoever; to culminate into tantalizingly reinvigorating froth; unrelentingly ooze a ravishing

entrenchment of poignantly heartfelt salt,

The nightingale didn’t need even the most measly of permission whatsoever; to stupendously titillate each dying nerve of the disdainfully frazzled body; with an

ocean of unsurpassably everlasting enchantment,

The squirrel didn’t need even the most oblivious of permission whatsoever; to frolic impeccably through the mists of untamed desire; uninhibitedly fulminate into an astounding kaleidoscope of vivacious color as it gallivanted through the handsome trees,

The leaves didn’t need even the most nonchalant of permission whatsoever; to seductively rustle into silken carpets of exuberant breeze; profusely solemnize the complexion of the disastrously decaying air; with reflections of insatiably unending

happiness,

The hands didn’t need even the most insipid of permission whatsoever; to wholeheartedly clap at every blissful occasion of existence; effusively express

their jubilant enthrallment to the most unprecedented limits,

The waterfalls didn’t need even the most non-existent of permission whatsoever; to ingratiatingly placate drearily scorched travelers; bequeath a legacy of sparkling togetherness upon all those murderously pinched by the corpse of bizarre commercialism,

The butterflies didn’t need even the most evanescent of permission whatsoever; to gorgeously flutter in exotically regale sunshine; manifest into an unfathomable sky of eternal mischief all marathon day,

The true martyrs didn’t need even the most ethereal of permission whatsoever; to audaciously fight for their sacrosanct motherland; relinquish every iota of their

breath for the sake of their beautifully revered country,

The rainbows didn’t need even the most transient of permission whatsoever; to Omnisciently engulf every withering cranny of this Herculean planet; with

fabulous infernos of ardent companionship,

The infant didn’t need even the most remotest of permission whatsoever; to holistically savor divine milk from the chest of its Godly mother; unleash into

a string of Omnipotently incoherent wails; as the Sun disappeared in wholesome entirety from blue sky,

And the Heart didn’t need even the most microscopic of permission whatsoever; to ecstatically liberate its incomprehensible river of passionate beats; immortally

bond them with the soul mate of its existence; perpetually unite them with the entity it solely loved .