Entry 053


The day is over and done

the day is over and done
I am back on my cushion
staring at the same ceiling
my mind fleeting elsewhere

darkness envelopes the night
silence rings in my ears
I am under the rubble
groping for a faint light

I am thinking of my past
I am peering at the future
they converge at the present
which is drifting by the second

a question grazes my mind
«why am I alone and forlorn?»
delight is but transient
but pain always remains

I live because I have to
life abounds with inevitabilities
things happen as they ought to be
people do their parts in the play

soon the night is over and done
the morning will erase the stars
every day is not the same
yet my anguish still unchanged

the sky as always is gray
the landscape shares the monotony
my eyes are listless and ashen
and I no longer stare at the horizon

despair is spelled in my head
unwanted is seared in my being
in the shade of trees I waste
in fallen foliage I lay buried

 

The day ends and another one starts. An idle life is monotonous. I hope something novel comes to paint colours to my hackneyed canvass. I hope the easel holding it still stands.

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