A poem written not so long ago; this is an attempt to fill the vacuum that engulfed this space over the last two last years. A fresh start!
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It is time to shred the words, Spread out by moist tears, and blurred by time. It is time to stop playing the scores composed. Throw them away like the rustles of dried summer leaves. Let the dreadful routines take up the stage, And galleries nod in agreement. Faded photos are no good But as frames to be hung on the walls For the maddening crowd to cherish a nostalgia. Wait alone ……. Sit down near a beach with a pack of peanuts, And wait for a wave that bring pearls Stay for hours, days or years Though tempting is the thought to dive in to the depths, In search of the dreamy stones that kept life alive. May be it is the long wait With some shredded papers smeared with words , And incomplete scores never played out, All sealed in the drudgery of routine life That someday turns into shiny white pearls… May be….. Just may be ….. |
M a y b e . . . |
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