The Deepest Bucket

How sultry and reprehensible is my façade!
Precarious both in the light and obscurity,
The fauna gropes has groped mt physical being,
The exploiting ages led me to thsi predicament.

And this desert was soaked for the first time,
When I fell amidst a bunch of few,
And tasted the nectar that revived,
The life in me: the extinct exuberance.

I should have known,
It was just a flood,
That flowed over from the adjacent plain,
Embracing my arid heart,
And the Unforgiving sun Would boil away the wet,
And I’d be hurt more than what I gained.

But the cracks left behind,
Cuddled traces of the past,
A soothing remnant else was a drought.
But the rolling stone gathers no moss!

It’s better to let a percentage sink,
And tap the fluid to an oasis.
The desert still stays! What saves now is,
The depth that mellows a frantic pause

My desiccated self calls for the same,
One solitary drizzle from the heavens,
For me to accumulate in a cherished lake,
That fills my burrows, heals my lesions.

My mate through oblivion,
The deepest bucket so to say,
That holds my cathartic vestiges.
But let not the air dissolve the moist,
Else this desolate tract will forever stay.