When empty voices drown your days

And whispers poison your veins in glee,

Amid my pages, a bower stays -

So, wipe that tear and turn to me.

We'll fly through blazing or shining spires,

And swim through castles in wombs of earth.

We'll trot through happy and glorious biers

And creep through weeing, frozen hearths.

For Life is hard and World is bleak

And human blood is black and frail,

When Soul of yours with wounds shall reek,

I'll be a drug, a Holy Grail.

Filled with truth untold and told,

With liquor of Lies from worldly sea,

With nightmares and dreams together rolled

In a sip of liberating ecstasy.

I was young and stupid.

Thus, was tricked by Cupid

Into a passionate curse- 

Seducing Prose and Fiction,

Stalking Plot and Diction, 

Unrequited love for verse.

Now smarter, older- 

A conspiracy I bake,

Making this love smolder- 

Never shall forsake.

For Wise have often sung- 

"Forever stupids are forever young." 

What good is to be a bright May morning,

With sweating streets and sneezing sun,

At eye of the storms that blow adorning

The bedlam of seasons that stumbling run? 

For often we shrivel, and often we freeze

But always we beat for minutes few.

Beneath the helmet, the paint, the grease,

Sprinkled, we twinkle like drying dew.

But you, bright dawn of my life! 

Should beat the tweets, posts and dreams.

Laugh at the tides of hate and strife,

Beyond the winds of fake regimes. 

Thus, in my verse you eternally rule,

A relic of love in a time capsule. 

'I am Wizard Criminee' the bespectacled boy bowed 'I'll be taking that Beetleroot...'

Estrima punched him in the face.

As if she’d let a man deter her! Her father and elder brothers, all were useless. And what was a “wizard” anyway?

‘No, you won’t. This is in my forest!’ She declared proudly ‘I am a witch!’

‘An itch? You need a balm?’

‘You dare call me weak!’ Estrima bellowed. That’s what everyone called her. ‘If you want my plant – Fight!’

‘You just broke my snout!’ he cried, coating his nose in yellow ointment. The swelling disappeared.

‘I am mortally afraid of you! But for my medicine...’ He sighed ‘How would you like to compete?’

Estrima squinted.

‘Faunaspeak?’ he proposed, lifting his hand. Commotion followed.

She gasped. Crows came flocking and surrounded them in every direction, cawing over their heads. What was that?

‘Too easy.’ She lied, covering her ears.

‘Spells, then?’ he started muttering something.

Estrima saw tiny drops of dew fly above their heads! They spread out in front of her, displaying her freckled face. A mirror!

She gaped at it, then squinted at Criminee.

He was good! Estrima was extremly annoyed. She felt the same, when her brothers boasted their magical achievements, ending with “But poor Estrima! She belongs to no class of magic!”

But she could listen to tiny whisperings hidden from the corner of everyone’s eyes. Spirits!

And she had decided to shut those men up!

They asked her ‘Which spectrum colour are you?’

‘Witch.’ She would answer. Then, this guy came!

‘Listen, let’s do it fast.’ He urged urgently ‘Lives depend on my medicine.’

She squinted. There was only one thing she could do.

‘Come!’ she pleaded, cupping her hands together.

A small spark twinkled in between her palms. She looked around her, spirits glittered everywhere, between trees, under the Beetleroot, in her tangled hair.

‘This is spirit talking!’ To her surprise, he exclaimed ‘I’ve never seen anyone do this before!’ Like a child, he clapped his hands. Removing his glasses, he came peering into her palms.

‘You are truly amazing!’ he grinned. No one had ever called her “amazing” before.

‘You are truly weird.’ she commented slowly.

‘Yes, that’s from where I got “Wizard”.’ He nodded, bowing politely ‘How unfortunate! I lost. You are too strong for me! Still I want this Beetleroot...’

She boxed his teeth this time. Wrombizongs! His modesty was too insulting!

‘Why are you bullying me?’ he rubbed his bleeding lip.

‘The Beetleroot. You can have it.’ Shrugging, she turned away.

‘Really? Th...’

‘I’m not helping you.’ she coughed. ‘But I hope you succeed. Your medicine will be amazing.’

‘Thanks.’ She heard him dig. ‘Anyway, Why would you think you are weak? My mother taught me everything and she is really strong.’

‘Is that so?’ Perhaps, the “Wizard” was not so bad.

Then it clicked.

‘Wait! That means I am not the first witch?’

He had disappeared.

‘Wrombizongs!’ She yelled at the woods ‘I hate men!’

Magic is a dangerous thing,

The elders always said.

At times, it leaves you utterly maimed.

At times, utterly mad.

Sometimes it will crush your soul,

Sometimes steal your breath.

Often, it plays and plots with Fate,

Making you wish for death.

There was a boy who loved a girl

Too beautiful for his reach.

With Magic, he turned into a hound,

In a gallant attempt to fleech.

He became her friend, her guard and guide,

Her angel in deepest dark.

Yet, he never confessed his love.

He still preferred to bark.

One day, her saw her wailing alone,

His name did she moan.

"How much! How much! I love this boy!

Oh! Where has he gone?"

He wagged his tale, "Now I'll turn- 

And claim I am here!"

Alas! He could not change back.

His life a nightmare! 

He saw her fall ill calling him,

Craving for him, she died,

Never knowing why her hound 

Would whimper by her side.

She left the world telling him- 

"Shyness in life is lame." 

That night sad howls in hollow woods,

Echoed till morning came.

And the Lover- Hound still howls today,

Telling us his tale,

Of love found and never touched,

Of meaning never stale

That "always walk on simple path

Before the winding way.

Magic may give you highest stars,

But the price will be high to pay."