Thursday, June 12, 2008

H.O.P.E. F.L.O.A.T.S.

Broken battered....

Dreams like eggshells splattered...

On the cracked plate of life.....

Dusty misty eyes that forgot how your face looked like....

Shining dancing tiptoeing sunlight in a room full of graves of memories.....

That have not been visited ever since the last burial....

What trees are going to shower their blossoms on the dead.....

Will some friends ever these forgotten paths tread?

Life rolls over in great tides beyond the gates of this ground.....

The loneliness of this place still has a soothing sound....

And as I cover myself in the blanket of quiet resignation......

And wallow in my loss and lie here crying....

A lovely lively colourful butterfly comes flying......

It may not find the nectar it has come looking for....

And yet life it brings unknown to those who lay dying...

And once again my dead mind contemplates....

Why the great player above can't keep things straight....

As I was embracing the dark night...

There comes happiness floating bright and light....

And once more the dead rise up to put up one last fight.....
(Image courtesy:Richa Bhake.Check her work at http://www.flickr.com/photos/raiza)



2 comments:

Richa said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Richa said...

Merci Beau Coup, Mademoiselle!!!