From Chopin's diary, through my eyes

So calm, gentle and tender is the night
though there's no moon, stars or  the faintest light
my heart wells never as before in such longing and sorrow
let my music tell my heartbreak-story though I know

love , the love of my life, will not once gain return
while my feelings within me so grievously burn
at this hour so bereft and solemn as I write my Nocturne
if I've died a thousand times,  for this love I'll still tearfully yearn

Life is the water
we are the filter
when its pipe is stuck
we'd all run out of luck!

We refuse to be
a footnote of time only
but to wear life on our sleeve
not a single moment to miss-

we will never be
but the remnant of history
its tide we'll rise over
to become our saviour and master-

we will not die
in regret or sigh
nor lose out in default
we make our unequivocal call

when the last hours should fall
the best of ourselves we'll recall
  no beauty nor love have we left behind
  and all that lives within us is noble and sublime

I'm no pearl
only a pebble
hidden under
the sand of time
unknown
to be discovered
by none-
yet I don't complain
or moan-
what I am
happily I accept
being just alone
a tiny stone-

the rose
has my pity
it blows
and loses
its beauty
when the sun
loses its glow
and admirers
are gone

a pebble I am
free to the bone
my life
as in
a perfect cone
abiding
consistent
unchanging
with nothing
to atone.

Every life
is a bit literature
though the person
is not a writer

Life's two words-
'acceptance' and' rejection'
which to choose for people
is difficult- hence the frustration

The now
doesn't exist
but for the past
and there will be
no tomorrow
but for the present now-

time has ceaseless wheels
it turns and turns
on its unstoppable heels
leaving us aghast

we'll lose count
we can't follow
time's moving around
only to be
a cog therein
and unheard
will be our sound