(Waiting for confession)

That summer midnight
my eyes cast a thoughtful glance
at the star-studded, moonlit sky,
with cyclonic thoughts of
dissatisfaction for losing
the hopes of finding you.
My heart beats endlessly with
the pains of confession.
I flew on the winged chariot of imagination,
awaiting you at the gates of sky;
to meet you with the heavenly
jasmines of thoughts in my hands
stringed into lustrous chaplets
by the treads of silver moonlight;
turning an earthen potful of my tears
into sweet milk to anoint you;
being drenched in the stardust for days.
The letters, my tears;
The melancholic song, my message of confessions.
But…
Will my message ever reach you?