Heavy chested I breathe
as the moon whitewashes the night.

The season is changing
and in the wind is the vapor of hyacinth
in the thick of which
the glowworms drink the nectar of night.

They have no philosophy and I have many
like while they dance just for the sake of life
my mind enveloped in obscurity
has shackled my feet and clipped my wings.

I wonder if the glowworms have a mind
that knows when they dance
they have an audience.

Maybe the stars know the same way
when they twinkle.

A lovely breeze flows
through my half open windows.
I stand by the grill,
pretend to have strong will,
to stay in my senses,
to stay alive in coming darkness.

It has been long,
I hear echo of that dull song
while I still stand by the grill
and let time fill
the emptiness within me.

Walking on the roads,
I pass shops and bill boards
selling happiness in everything
as though items can bring
back contentment to you,
replace the warmth of a lost soul
with an object cold and new.

I have failed over a hundred times
took the wrong turn after a long mile,
tried to make way after dead ends,
always trying for that smooth bend.

I feel today,
I need to make a new way.
I am that same soul
with an old habit of setting new goal,
with a heavy heart,
with an anxious mind,
plan a new beginning
on this lonely Sunday evening.