The years roll on and sway to and fro
In darkness or twilight they would go
Time has wings; ages wax and wane!
Like breeze wafts in the desolate lane.
Life’s a stream and bizarre ’twill settle
In the mid of storm akin to a lone petal,
The little flame of life flirts with breeze
Rising and falling as waft would please.
Life’s a daughter of dreams and stories,
Where melancholy is clothed in glories,
On land of fascination and clear colours
The bloom withers in shadow less hours.
With gloomy qualms its throbs art fraught,
Life’s a whine that would whisper naught!
Swayed in sweet slumber it quietly passes,
Akin to faint images that shape on glasses!
In some mysterious shelter the life lingers,
The harp strings are so touched by fingers,
Invisible and dexterous the strings play on,
Receding out of sight into the dewy dawn!
The obscure clue peeps into barren places,
Here and there hide some undefined traces,
Some wonders, some perils and none more,
Bespeak the satire and the life’s tragic lore!
Life’s a shade about us that always hovers,
Slyly it merges in darkness as night covers,
Ah swiftly to go by amid fleeting shadows,
Like a footless ghost on emerald meadows.
Where and what? A fairy or on bloom a rose,
Why pleasures and enchantment tempt woes?
Dreaming, quiescent and ever numb keeping,
Draped in delight always weeping, weeping!
A gift or grace yet a lamp that’s burning out,
Years in and out ah scattering its light about,
A little love, a lowly disgust and faint gleam;
Untarnished in dew drops, its nuance redeem. |
