out of mystery

meadows of darkness
and the leaning music
of separate souls..
waiting to mingle
and compose
the masterpiece..
sorrows of the past
reminding
every now and then
the mistakes out of
curiosity that
made thoughts of fear
and future..
when something is created
isn't it to be celebrated?
but why is it that
when something is created
of nowhere and
the eyes of minute questioning
hurry to kill..
and when
the divinity wants
to show its face
to the longing mass..
who knows
where the elixir is and
how to open the
container?
and the creator
hides himself
not able to face
the ongoing revolution and
the inner irritation
may be..
every birth
is beautiful
whether its of
purity or
temptation..
all that is..
is out of mystery..
isn't it?