It's the cliche
of the dawn
every poet praises-
'a new beginning'

not for me
the tiresome repeating

give me then

the sad languishing
of a mellow sunset
the day put to rest
its chagrin and fret

give me only
the heart in calm accepting

people are loathed
to denying
their love for craving
amidst
busy hours rushing
through their veins
and their entire being
the perennial pursuing
'what's there for me?
am I not-deserving?'

evening shadows
they lengthen
me into such
they are drawing
my very motives
they are questioning

but

I am not answering
as the truth is:
life the enigma
is beyond my knowing

like past years before
the wonder and awe
(to me ) of living
but lies in the Zen-ness
of not thinking
which is the cause
of human agonising

hush!
a tiny star
is appearing

is it listening?

Wordless
I am
the moment
in embracing
is worth
my very dying