OLD THAT NEVER GETS OLD
I always appreciated the innate charm of antiquity
in my own skins. I celebrated the joy of black and white being alternatives of hope and despair, colors are beautiful but they never intrigued me as if I was color blind . I always wondered why so much of vintage love in me? May be the conditioning between ancient souls that turned me into an ancient soul or the beauty of ancientness itself.
There is something special being an ancient soul, may be the promise of neoclassicism or the promise of beauty itself.
Ancient souls, too old to be weaved in poetry are throwback to the era where souls hankered to heal and blossomed like never before.
Beauty in beauty, believer in belief
Appreciating the world through ancient eyes
Like a sunburst candle
Bringing sunshine at every tick
Like an enchantress
Spreading vintage spells
Like a French wine
The older the better
Like a vintage bloom
Blossoming to be in blossom
Like a Roman candle
Illuminating the illusions
Like a Danish credenza
Too old to be modern
– Bhavani Rao
an avid learner who likes to connect dots
Hyderabad, Telangana, India.