Beneath The Amethyst Sky

Inspired by the quiet intensity of "La Petite Mort", this piece seeks to weave the sensations of release, stillness, and renewal into the natural world. The ocean’s rhythms—the pull of tides, the storm’s fury, and the calm that follows—become a reflection of the feminine experience, where every ebb and flow carries the weight of life, death, and rebirth.

Beneath the velvety amethyst sky,

The warmth of candles mirrors the stars up high.

Fireflies flicker with the same gentle glow,
Their light a dance, warm and slow.

Lavender thrives where the waves kiss the shore,

Its fragrance carried through the air, wanting more.

Aroma fills the chamber, sweet and pure,
Like coastal breezes, soft and sure.

The tide stirs within, gentle and deep,

In a quiet rhythm, the body begins to leap.

Like tectonic plates shifting far below,
Emotions rise, the currents grow.

The water swells, higher and high,

Pulsing and crashing underneath the sky.

A storm stirs within, fierce and untamed,
The waves rise up, no longer framed.

And as the body arches in time with the sky,

A hum of the wind escapes, carried on the night’s sigh.

Fingers dig deep, clutching the sheets,
Like roots anchoring earth in the storm’s fierce beats.

The stars align, the universe bends,

Whispering through the waves, as the body transcends.

In every movement, the cosmos entwines,
And the soul ignites as desire refines.

Then comes the unfurling, soft as the rain,

Quiet and calm, yet not the same.

The storm subsides, the ocean still,
In the stillness, everything is fulfilled.

And then, all fades—into velvet black,
The tides retreat, and stars pull back.
A fleeting hush, a cosmic breath,
Whispering echoes of life and death.

From the depths of the darkness, life stirs anew,
As waves regain their rhythm, true.
The soul awakens, whole as one,
Embracing the light as night is undone.

~ Kanika Kaushal ✨ The Luminous Muse

Comments

Until Noon

I can feel the distance, But my body craves you. I am howling at the moon, Hoping you love me until noon. It’s winter, and everyone is covering up, But I will drop every single layer for you. Will you make the bedpost creak? Like the way we break our Duolingo streak? Or will you be my Count, And leave your marks on my neck? Will you drink away my life force, Or give me your immortal kiss? Who would care about saving it for daylight? We are creatures of this starry night. Will you save me with your sword, Be my Guinevere’s Sir Lancelot ? These boys keep talking about getting high at the pub. Would you do me the honour of the Mile High Club? Will you track my curves like an F1 circuit? Or be like kids fighting over the gully cricket? Come get me, while the night is still young, And we erase the distance with our tongues.

Game Of Fire and Ice

Hey Mister, Why won't you play a game of Twister? I promise I won't play coy. Won't you love it if I were your only toy? You can be the Lion in the boardroom, Then make me roar in the bedroom. Let's play the game of fire and ice. You bring the sugar, and I get the spice. I am praying by myself these nights, Drowning my moans when the city sleeps tight. We can play the game of Super Sonic, And then have our own race over some gin and tonic. So find me, like an app can find a phone. No, I won't bring out my Medusa and turn you into stone. I have been getting over my fears, Learned to make my tears into spears. You can take me as you like. We can go until we hear the third strike.

Polished Sins

A suit and tie, that polished smile, Covering up sins stacked mile by mile. They flaunt “new love,” someone else’s child— A ready-made story, perfectly styled. They’ve “levelled up,” or so they preach, But on someone’s pain, they made their reach, With vows of loyalty, words so neat, While another’s screams lie beneath their feet. Oh, they “moved on” to brighter skies, Leaving someone broken, with silent cries. They mount new heights, they shout and boast— Scaling peaks on another's haunted ghost. So smile for the camera, flash your pride, Show off the life that you tried to hide. For we know the truth beneath your gleam— A hollow show, a self-made scheme.

Cruising Alone

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