To the woman I condone

What would the world be like without womanhood. I can't simmer down in that stream of thought. This is for the woman who have lived and loved in pain. The one who asks for nothing but always pours out love and strength in unconditional amount.

While most of the people are looking to be saved. There's always someone who is willing to take a leap of faith and cross the larger distance. It is the virtue of modesty that drives them the most amazing feats. However, they are more likely to be caught in the whimsical world of power and domination. The world takes spins and turns but woman hold the majestic grace of keeping the world still at her bay. Something that the will of masculine can never achieve. It is that charm that binds us to the beautiful existence of womanhood.

Recognise the one who is there for you without even letting you notice it. You will fall gently in her grace. Reach out to the one. She cries alone at night too often. The breaking point of vulnerability weighs in tones of her suppression and abuse. Bearing all the shades of chaos at the cost of sanity, I wish to take away her misery. If only she lets me. Helplessly, I can only let myself down if If can't elevate her back to the abode she resides in. I bow down to goddess who have shaped in a person I'm today. I would be nothing without you.

A short poem to dedicated to the woman I condone.

Days stay the same, the nights are new.

When I live through, the concussions of my few.

To the episodes I skipped, to the moments I couldn't own

This goes out to the woman I condone

She has doubts she needs to conquer

thoughts she won't concede; comes down to clog her.

Her notions of imagination have long been betrayed

by the world swayed on fatigued promises

Our frailish proximity holds up a picturesque view

fearful of the moving imagery.

A train's window that changes

with flashes of bucolic streams and empty fields

never accustoms itself to permanence.

I lay myself out at disposal of her concurrence

breathe in her vicinity,

sip drinks from her sorrow cup

cry for her moments of pious revelry

To the woman estranged of trust 

enshrines her prayers deep within my skin 

a testimony of cruel times.

This is to the woman I condone.