The Sky Of Unconquerable Love. Poem by Nikhil Parekh

If you asked me how tall was it; I would perhaps miserably stutter; faltering an umpteenth number of times; before I could even emanate an inconspicuous
whisper,

If you asked me how vivacious was it; I would perhaps stumble like ninepins on obdurate ground; ludicrously bedazzled by that extra tinge of somberly radiant
light,

If you asked me how fragrant was it; I would perhaps have to frantically rummage through the records of a several thousand years; and yet eventually find myself
enshrouded by dungeons of inexplicably horrendous blackness,

If you asked me how boisterous was it; I would perhaps have to furiously contemplate for hours immemorial; laboriously delving into the most inscrutably esoteric realms of my beleaguered mind,

If you asked me how piquant was it; I would perhaps gasp for fresh air literally relinquishing the last breath of my life; maniacally ripping apart my hair for an answer; that simply wasn't to be,

If you asked me how charismatic was it; I would perhaps nonchalantly stare into disgusting space for countless more births of mine; worthlessly dithering towards a horizon that irrefutably didn't have any end,

If you asked me how conspicuous was it; I would perhaps grope wildly in an entrenchment of insane dreariness; wholesomely obfuscated for direction in
the island of diabolical hell,

If you asked me how harmonious was it; I would perhaps incoherently dither on the footsteps of utter devastation; lunatically running a marathon in the ungainly wild; that would never end,

If you asked me how formidable was it; I would perhaps commence to miserably slither on the ghastly ground; ghastily metamorphosing every dream of my blissfully
ravishing sleep; into a perpetually gory nightmare,

If you asked me how phlegmatic was it; I would perhaps excoriate all my hair apart in bizarre frustration; lambasting my scalp till eternity; in quest of the most sagacious of answer,

If you asked me how vivacious was it; I would perhaps pathetically stagger towards obsolete wisps of lackadaisical nothingness; eventually landing into the menacing gutters of horrific starvation,

If you asked me how immaculate was it; I would perhaps nervously flutter under the morbidly sullen carpet of the penalizing night; almost getting mercilessly straddled in the graves of tyrannical discomfort,

If you asked me how redolent was it; I would perhaps insipidly crumble into a dustbin of infinitesimal ash; preposterously disappearing into oblivion; in trying
to salvage for the most veritable of solutions,

If you asked me how fast was it; I would perhaps abhorrently drift my neck in boundless directions; in the end collapsing like a pack of soggy cards; to coalesce
with maliciously vindictive soil,

If you asked me how turbulent was it; I would perhaps gnaw even the last strand of my nails in utter nonchalance; stare like an imperturbable idiot into the hostile depths of the unending well,

If you asked me how melodious was it; I would perhaps blast every sanctimonious sound in my throat to juxtapose with meaningless infinity; lecherously sinking deeper and deeper into cold blooded earth,

If you asked me how rhetoric was it; I would perhaps lugubriously slip even on the most formidably handsome of grounds; profusely bleeding in exasperated confusion even in the most brilliantly bestowing of sunlight,

If you asked me how euphoric was it; I would perhaps unsteadily waver in absolutely despondent submission; trouncing every shade of overwhelming jubilation with
despicable doom,

But if you asked me to execute it; then I would unequivocally unite the entire planet in its stupendously compassionate threads of priceless humanity; for it was none other than the garland of spell binding creation; the sky of unconquerable love.