A season of colour and love,
time beading every moment with it;
some faces are a crowd now,
but still travelling in the time of the mind —
just like flowing water through a pipe,
I am ceasing my every dime,
close to heart and life:
the same day, and the same time.
Tag: Self
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Same Day and Same Time
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Day of Night
How do I handle this fear,
that trims away a part with every tear?
How do I cross my mind,
when I am swimming in a sea of time?How do I come to know myself,
when I know I am lost within?
How do I show my past —
just the pieces of a broken heart?What should I write about life,
when all I know is that it moves on?
What should I try to forget,
when I have seen myself become a past?Should I believe what I have seen,
or shall I try to live my own?
Should I mourn every day,
or bewilder my thoughts one night?
Should I note everything down,
or shall I forgive, and forget?
Or… should I just be doing it? -
To Be or Not to Be
I would rather cross my mind,
and travel, alone, all of mine;
or behead my day, so full of head,
and, a day or more, live my life…I carry all my deeds,
and the beads of my hate;
I whisper words of shed,
and expect my own side…To the lonely night and day,
I dare to love once again;
travelling all myself, an unknown way,
I recall some of the lost rain.It is turning to summer, for a change,
and I glance back for a familiar face;
but I witness myself in a crime of dilemma:
to be, or not to be, a part of this life again… -
Being a Time
For a while, being a time,
I try remembering myself —
my will, my words,
my pain, and a world of happiness and sorrow;
and, for a time, being myself. -
Wish I…
I just wish, sometimes —
wish I could only hope,
wish I could only believe,
wish I could only see thee,
wish I could only love,
wish I could only help,
wish I could only walk,
holding one familiar hand of my life: my childhood.Wish — when I wished for everything, and I had it;
wish to be back when time was innocent;
wish when the sky was an endless beauty;
wish when the moon was my friend;
wish when I had nothing, but my peace;
wish when I had the courage to dream;
wish when broken houses were only card games;
wish — I could wish, now. -
A Glimpse of Life
It is just a glimpse of life —
the one I love when I close my eyes,
and the one I fear when I open them. -
Gazing Life
I recall my life, and reckon it through its flakes;
I have come so far, in an exile of time and its frame.
Not the plain I have come through,
not a bed of roses I have laid upon;
not the shelter and comfort of the beheld and safe,
not fearless of loss, or of weakening dreams,
not loved and cared for, all the way — but
I find a tranquillity when I look back at time.I step forward, and watch myself run afar,
to reach the end I always admire;
but the trees left behind, the shadow of them —
be they lovers or friends, I hold them still.
And in the nostalgia of time, I whisper my lonely words:
“Wish you were here, to complete this journey.” -
Real Face
A face upon a face,
we wear a new one every day;
I cry today,
I laugh today —
contextual, sensual.
But every day, I gain a new face:
I hold my fear,
I behold my thought,
I scare my own life,
I hide my tears,
and wear one upon one,
and say, “life moves on.”The longer I go and come,
the farther I close off my thought;
but again, on one more night,
I wear another face —
secluded, and scared;
hideous, and gorgeous;
lame, and shamed.
And with the night, I put on my real face. -
Lost Night
A glimpsed day, and its thoughts;
dreams, and the far reality of life;
someone to know, and to love,
someone to call, and to cry to,
and one to call your own.Sheared eyes, and time,
seeking for the one that’s lost;
to the past, to the future —
something to remember, and to forget,
something to hold, and to let go,
and one to keep safe, inside…