Sitting,waiting in the bus shelter,
the mind is led by roving thoughts
from the now and here
into fields often not explored
whereto the feet hesitate to stray.

I sit there seeing the world hurry on,
not really looking at the people all around
but thinking back;thinking about those
who used to walk these same streets
who used to hurry off just so.

The roads may have forgotten their tread,
their faces blurred by time,
their voice masked by life's din,
soon to be faded into memory;
our love glossing over their faults.

But what of their stories?
What of the things left unsaid?
What of the questions unanswered?
What of their talents not passed down?
What of the bonds,the people undone?

Are their stories lost?
Never meant to be finished?
Small and unimportant enough
to be cut off,be discarded?
Lives destined for the void?

But what of those left behind?
Stories tainted by that void?
Hearts burdened b their absence?
Eyes wearied of waiting?
Dreams filled with longing?

The bus arrives with that sureness
of the things that come and go.
Boarding it,I sit next to a window
and let it carry me away like I've let
those things that come and go.

Gazing out the window,
I see life rushing past me.
And a desire takes hold of me
for this journey to go on,
to keep moving while immobile.

I think of those stories unfinished,
stories seen through a man's eyes,
read with a man's wisdom.
But what if that is not all?
What if there is more?

What if some questions are
never meant to be answered?
Some things be left unsaid?
Some talents never to be passed on
but define the person lost and him alone?

What if the stories left behind
are meant to be tainted that way?
To bear a fragrance like no other,
the void marking them for perfection.
What if people are meant to be undone?

What if the stories are not lost
but merged with the living ones?
To fuel them,to further them,
to be a muse to spur them,
be a core in their shaping?

Wistful thinking all,devised to soothe.
The mind awash with torrential thoughts
still hears a small voice of hope,
holding on to it while hanging
above a chasm of decadence.

Every night we go to bed
trusting the angels guarding us
to let happen what is right;
slipping into peaceful oblivion,unsure
whether we will wake from it again.

All these thoughts,these stories float
as leaves on that river called Life.
Whether we be afloat or under,
it flows;the grand story goes on
crafted by The Great Writer.

After all the broken hopes
dare we still hope on
as did Abraham of old,
hoping where there is none,
seeing life where there is death?

Dare we still dream on?
Dare we hope our stories
will not be left unfinished
thinking,wanting to believe that
Life is Hope is Life?

For this night to never end
please let there be a charm.
Let there be a magic spell
for this night to never end.

For this night holds secrets,
this night conceals mysteries
that I would love to unravel
but for the Time that rushes it away.

Not for the conquests in the dark.
Not for a veil to hide behind.
But for the canopy of diamonds
for these eyes to feast upon.

For the tender breeze it brings
to lift back that strand of hair
from the face of my sleeping dear;
that fills me with her fragrance

For the quietude that portends
the greatness the morrow will bring;
For the expectant stillness
that spawns the desire to create-

-to create worlds of wonders
fueled by our ardent dreams.
To stand on the verge of Fantasy
bridging the gap into Reality.

Oh!Please let there be a way!
Lest these fervid thoughts fly away!
Lest this fleeting night in a fleeting life
be chased away by another Day!

The storm of the night has abated.
Only a drizzle of a rain falls
from the now weary clouds.
Atop a mountain tall,
I stand gazing out to the sea.

The rage of the waves subsides
soothed by the warming Sun.
Grey clouds and dark waters
dabbed with gold and crimson;
a sight glorious to see.

Emerges from the flaming rays
a lone flying spectre;
a bird birthed from fire,
borne on wings of ancient splendour,
traversing the timeless sky solemnly.

High above it starts singing:
a musical cry echoing across time,
of death and end and ashes;
A lament painfully sublime
carrying a hint of a plea.

The bird changes it's note.
It's cry now the only sound,
it sings of fire,life and hope
to the stillness all around;
a music that sets free.

So singing and freeing it flies away
spreading dawn in it's wake.
I climb down to the shore.
Cold spray hits me as waves break
and water laps at my feet.

I hold in my hand a feather,
golden and fringed with red;
warm with life and fire
to resurrect all that is dead;
A quill of hope it be...

From the lips of a still night
comes forth a silent song
bearing the tale of the souls
borne away from under it's cover
to a far away Dawn.

The joyful blooming of a flower
shouts out to the soaring bird
in a silent song that there is
splendour in being still and radiant
no less than there is in flight.

The lofty trees touching the sky
sing a solemn silent song
of their patience,of their resolve.
Their greatest victory in shooting
up through the resisting earth.

It is a silent song
that passes between lovers' eyes
singing the desire of one
to be a part of the other..
to become lost in the other.

A silent song rises from the Earth
carrying the prayers of souls;
rises like an incense
through the starry ether
to the Creator;Breather of life.

Without wings it flies
Without words it speaks.
Mystically beautiful it is
as it envelops the world,
this Silent Song.

What would it be like?
To wake up to a day
Not filled with troubles and worries..?

What would it be like?
To escape the scorching heat
and feel a cool,caressing breeze?

What would it be like?
To shout aloud for joy,
laughing out a sweet song?

What would it be like?
To be child enough to run..
Run in the rain far and long?

What would it be like?
To live in a blessed utopia..
In a place not run by pelf?

What would it be like?
To look in the mirror and see
Not an image but yourself?

What would it be like?
To feel this heart beating
Not to survive but to live?

What would it be like?
To know that these eyes see
Not to take but to give?

What would it be like?
To breathe-in Peace..
To need nothing more,nothing less?

And what would it be like?
To see the stars in the vast infinity
And feel not small but endless?