Her smile, was it real or illusive?
Was she an empress, whose command was ultimate?
That echoed through the outstretched lands?
Or was she an ordinary being but not a commoner?
Was she soul thirsty, bewitched, and engrossed in depths?
One who could correlate to the enormity of the oceans?
Was her forehead overshadowed by a gloomy darkness?
Whoever beheld her sight tried to unfold these truths.
In light, her expressions easily changed,
Thus, one could misperceive into it anything
It all depended on the one who entered her soul,
As though it was waiting, peaceful and vacant.
Calm on the surface, resembling the deep blue sea
Upon its shores, the waves came crashing;
Roaring, a pinch of melancholy tinged with solitude.
In harmony beneath the apparent exterior
Withholding mystical secrets of the night.
She was like a beautiful castle with bare walls
Only devoid of tapestries and artwork.
Or else, she was a voluptuous maiden
Tempting all on whom her shadow was cast.
She could be either or neither, it all summed down
To the one who sought to unfold the layers of mystery.
Perhaps, she had mastered the language of silence–
That orchestrated breathless symphonies?
Or sipped wine from the fountain of serenity.
For she knew the secret of captivating forlorn hearts,
Like a garden of hallucination thrust from Eden.
Her eyes reflected beyond worldly illusions
In utter tranquillity, she twirled in the wilderness
Dancing to the echoes of a scholar’s tune.
Suddenly, her expressions changed once again
As the bewitched admirer took a second glance at the portrait.
It became a depiction darker than the darkest of nights
As if joy mixed with sorrow, took sadness to infinite lengths.
Many souls are to this day lost in the abyss of its myth,
Captivated, spellbound by DaVinci’s strokes,
Overwhelmed, enslaved by its surreal charm.
As though the painting that hung kept hidden;
A bait into an forbidden eerie past that
Contained a fortress of illicit riches.
Upon her lips rested glorious hymns of Solomon
Radiating the charisma of an enigmatic Greek goddess
Or, she was the gushing cyclone of Zephyrus
That swept away dry autumn leaves.
Alas, no! She was cursed to enchant us for centuries
As tough a spell was cast by Pharaoh’s magicians.
Silence is an art only seldom can discern,
Albeit this fabricated canvas had a voice of its own.
Its echoes harped the loudest lullaby,
Colliding with far reaching hills.
A bygone era of centuries despite its origin,
If not, then why are souls bewildered to this day?
Hypnotised by an unquenchable thirst to dive
Into this ocean of divine – unearthly intoxication.
The views expressed by the writer and the reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of The Express Tribune.