Every press of finger
In the Cellphone’s keypad
Gives the right sentient
That just fits
To my rendered mettle
The thrust of each texts
Into my core
Show me the picture
Of my very own self.

The mirror of gold
Sapphire, amethyst and so on
Revealed the genuine fortune
From a hidden centuries
The soul was found
Without the blinding lights
The core was dug
With the use of hands
A soft melted touch.

Memories from yesterday
Surpassed the lane
Of certain forgetful
Untamed shadow was no more
And the old memoirs
Rapture from above
The lights of the sun
Impart the old from new
Giving the right stuff for me.