White Place

There is this place that covers her mind in white sheets of illusions,
white it is as if the prelude of a dream, her mind comes at ease, no more words.
A place to find the ultimate inner liberty she craved all her life,
the sentiment she has become to be a part of, both now entwined,
and as she contemplates the new dream in utter awe,
a rebel tear finds its way through her cheek,
and she senses the dying of a feeling within,
a feeling that has been in stupor, a feeling which has been muffled.

There is this place that soothes her pain inside,
and from which her heart simply does not hide,
this place that seems to bloom in every corner as if coming alive,
and she just gives in to this notion of tranquility,
and all earthly bounds she throws off, for there is no other place to which she desires to go.

The sweet-honey melody that plays is as if that of angels,
the one that has the power to tranquil a desperate soul,
a torn-to-pieces heart,
and provides the elixir of tranquility,
the one that she has been dreading for years.

There is this place, white in all its constitution, almost graceful,
this place that stirs her emotions which springs in torrents of astonishment and love,
this place to which she has just given in without a second thought,
she is mesmerized by the incantation she has created and she embraces it,
no more suffering she whispers to herself, no more a dying love, or a dying hope.

She extends her arms along the white thick walls,
tears flowing, submerged in her own world where her soul is admitted,
she dances with arms wide open inside the white room, giving way to felicity,
and then a cold and tight grip embraces her body, she still smiles,
white shades come alive, as if angels were around her, staring...
and those white clad beings just finally put her down…
she sleeps…

RQ
Moscow
27/10/10