And Still Expect

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: January 29, 2018

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Submitted: January 29, 2018



Could you disastrously empty the sky of its voluptuously crimson clouds; and still expect it to torrentially shower bountifully blissful droplets of sparkling rain?

Could you ruthlessly extricate the battlefield of its valiantly patriotic warriors; and still expect it to bring scintillatingly triumphant freedom for its sacrosanct motherland?

Could you barbarically pulverize the petals of the gorgeously imperial lotus; and still expect it to fulminate into a river of unfathomably enchanting scent?

Could you unabashedly strip the regale Sun of its flamboyantly sizzling rays; and still expect it to profoundly dazzle into an ocean of unassailably beautiful shine?

Could you murderously evict the earth of even the most infinitesimal of seed; and still expect it to salubriously glisten and blossom into the aisles of optimistically  burgeoning prosperity?

Could you cold-bloodedly snap the wings of the boisterously soaring bird; and still expect it to exuberantly zip forward in cocoons of jubilantly azure sky and tirelessly fly high?

Could you treacherously evaporate every ounce of water in the limitless oceans; and still expect them to ravishingly undulate into ecstatic waves of rejuvenatingly thunderous froth?

Could you devastatingly bury the glittering diamond infinite feet beneath drearily threadbare mud; and still expect it to unceasingly radiate into a fountain of mesmerizing golden glimmer?

Could you mercilessly thrash the poignantly intricate spinal chord of the infant; and still expect it to unflinchingly gallop towards the skies of eternally triumphant freedom?

Could you preposterously chop the rosy stub of tongue in the mouth; and still expect it to unfurl into the most melodiously spell binding tunes of vivacious existence?

Could you savagely bombard the silken web into a countless incongruously debilitating pieces; and still expect the spider to merrily bounce in the corridors
of insatiably uncontrollable ebullience?

Could you horrendously kill both the celestially compassionate parents; and still expect the child to timelessly bloom and invincibly smile?

Could you treacherously inundate the entire dwelling with acrimoniously jejune and prejudiced cockroaches; and still expect the rainbows of irrefutable truth to
unconquerable enlighten; even after the very end of veritable time?

Could you diabolically suck every iota of blood from the harmonious body; and still expect it to intrepidly confront every impediment that vindictively confronted
it in its way?

Could you devilishly maraud the resplendently impeccable whites; and still expect the eye to diffuse effulgent empathy; vividly sight beyond the contours of beauty and satiny graciousness?

Could you viciously pluck even the most diminutive blade of grass from the everlasting meadow; and still expect the cows to innocuous graze; romantically
philander and exude into cisterns of immaculately divine milk?

Could you lay a gory battalion of blood-coated thorns in even the most ephemeral of his path; and still expect the traveler to dance in the winds of perennial exuberance for times immemorial?

Could you ruthlessly lambaste the stomach with whiplashes of bizarre emaciation; and still expect it to indefatigably languish in the entrenchment of gorgeously blessed replenishment?

Could you crudely lynch a harmlessly symbiotic organism; and still expect it to holistically proliferate countless more of its kind; continue God's chapter of Omnipotent creation till its very last breath?

Could you truculently destroy the impregnable foundations of the towering edifice; and still expect that it relentlessly blazed as the most handsomely highest peak towards; regally crystalline sky?

Could you lasciviously deluge the nimbly placid atmosphere with sleazily tantalizing seductresses; and still expect the impressions of glorious righteousness to reign supreme; on every step that you resolutely tread?

Could you dictatorially assassinate every trace of stringent light; and still expect the pathetically destitute to find the needle from the incomprehensibly colossal haystack?

Could you deliberately constipate every glorious constituent of your body; and still expect to mitigate every fraternity of tumultuously bereaved mankind?  

Could you indiscriminately devour an unsurpassable bucket of ghastly needles; and still expect an aura of unparalleled serenity to linger across your persona; for decades limitless more to come?

Could you heinously masticate the one eyed vultures egg; and still expect the bird to bless you with all marvelously scintillating richness of philanthropically magnanimous life?

Could you insanely nail the silken ears with criminally torching iron bars; and still expect them to effusively decipher even the most mercurial trace of non-existent sound?

Could you grow a desert of penalizingly serrated cactus in your backyard; and still expect to witness exotically pristine angels to spawn at even the most evanescent unveiling of ingratiatingly velvety dawn?

Could you lethally maim the legs of the withering old man; and still expect him to victoriously transcend past the barriers of the 1000 M; marathon race?

Could you baselessly terrorize the sordidly trembling and orphaned urchin; and still expect fireballs of inexorably unending love to euphorically leap from every conceivable element of his hapless countenance?

Could you ominously shatter the mirror into boundless bits of obsolete fragments; and still expect it to irrevocably portray the most candid reflection that darted from your dastardly persona?

Could you unimaginably cut all fingers with the nondescript farmaxe; and still expect the palm to unravel every unleashing instant of the day; into an compassionately overflowing barrage of stupendously raw artistry?

Could you wildly run without a cloth on your body abreast the busy traffic street; and still expect the most eclectic accolades of civilized culture to be bestowed upon you; till the earth lived and countless births beyond your time?

Could you vanquish every compassionate draught of air that cascaded from the nostril; and still expect the heavens of passionately pulsating life to flower into
the mists of fantastically unending desire?

And Could you tyrannically strip life of the immortal love it throbbed every minute for; and still expect it to become the most pricelessly prosperous; aristocratically rise above every other entity on this gargantuan Universe and ardently survive?

© Copyright 2018 Nikhil Parekh. All rights reserved.

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