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| @Brahmputra |
I experience days and
nights,
Seasons, harsh and
mellowed seemingly alike.
Longing for the choices,
Imagining the winters in
scorching sun,
cursing the chilly cold
expectant of a balming sun.
Everything has its
beauty so are the vices,
But seldom I remember the
good, somehow always occupied by the crises.
Mind tricks me to imagine
an expectant future,
Past as they say always hounds,
Perhaps to escape the
present which stretches the mind apart,
With fogged thoughts, longing
for good times in the womb of an imagined spring,
Irrespective of my
imagined thoughts, occupied with a scorn Sun or chilly wind,
Not ready to accept that
the present too is an outcome of one’s acts,
The mind never rests but
always on the run,
With peace available only
in an imagined Spring, Or perhaps in imaginations only!
Peaceful :)
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