|
Empty Echoes Those beautiful lines A
garland of words Woven
by a magician And
sung by the birds Tranquil
and soothing They
vanquish your brooding Yet
are merely an apparition Not
a heavenly rendition They
are but shadows frail Which
abandon sail As
sleep overcomes you And
loneliness becomes you They
may sound so serene As
would an angel in a dream They
perform a ballet upon your mind And
leave misery lagging behind But
when you do wake up to life To
abandon eternal strife You
realize that they are but words Meant
for the birds Temporary
and cunning They
leave your hopes running And
you lag behind with despair The
beauty of the words nowhere Just
a hollow sphere A
void in the words you hear For
they are but a shroud A
passing cloud An
exercise in futility A
lesson in humility If
you think them to be Anything
more than Words I’d
rather read between the lines Which
speak of hope and goodness climes For
they stay with me Even
when words cease to be As
would a mother’s love A
child’s possession And Your past. ~Vikram C~
|
