The long day's journey comes to an end,
I have matched my gains of memories
with forgetfulness, the fruits fallen wasted,
in my mind's tally sheet, it was marked bit odd,
every loss ultimately was accounted as gain,
and the result finally was calculated thus:
"You are a traveler through space-time continuum unlimited,
the journey itself is the real thing, (though every bit an illusion)
desire nothing else, that doesn't make any sense"
Sitting on a beach bench, alone in a timeless evening,
eyeing the unceasing, agitating waves,
converging dark clouds and boats in panic,
I imagine this:
the skies are clear, boats on waves dance in rapture,
you are near,
on the branches of trees, evening birds
begin to sing, a song so rarely heard,
then--
fingers of gentle wind, touch my forehead,
I open my eyes and see-
you sitting near with a smile,
all storm clouds were eaten by sweeping winds,
sky, has a deep hue of blue like in my imagination,
as if we are nearer to infinity.
As ever the universe smiles gently to us.
The orchestra of birds
on the treetops is in high octave.
What is left for us, man and wife,
to do then in this hour of peace?
Come let's run to the waves,
and dance with them, as long as you wish
we've created this day for us by request.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 7:34 AM UTC
The long day's journey comes to an end,
I have matched my gains of memories
with forgetfulness, the fruits fallen wasted,
in my mind's tally sheet, it was marked bit odd,
every loss ultimately was accounted as gain,
and the result finally was calculated thus:
"You are a traveler through space-time continuum unlimited,
the journey itself is the real thing, (though every bit an illusion)
desire nothing else, that doesn't make any sense"
Sitting on a beach bench, alone in a timeless evening,
eyeing the unceasing, agitating waves,
converging dark clouds and boats in panic,
I imagine this:
the skies are clear, boats on waves dance in rapture,
you are near,
on the branches of trees, evening birds
begin to sing, a song so rarely heard,
then--
fingers of gentle wind, touch my forehead,
I open my eyes and see-
you sitting near with a smile,
all storm clouds were eaten by sweeping winds,
sky, has a deep hue of blue like in my imagination,
as if we are nearer to infinity.
As ever the universe smiles gently to us.
The orchestra of birds
on the treetops is in high octave.
What is left for us, man and wife,
to do then in this hour of peace?
Come let's run to the waves,
and dance with them, as long as you wish
we've created this day for us by request.
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