Category : Poems
Sub Category : N/A
The feelings of yesterday touch me once
When I ponder on this unknown
And I stop for a while and tell myself
"Well, this is it."
All of the good cannot touch me again
They are treasures that awaited my arrival
But a hold on this linear perpetuality
Is not known to them
This is why they curse me today
And every day, even as I change:
A smaller hindrance holds me
And indeed, it is that it is.
Now, when sometimes the unexplained,
When it hurts my hurdling heart
I'm left transfixed on the distance
And teary-eyed in hopeless hope
This is it: I emphasise
My travels toward the awaiting wasteland.
And if I ever had even a blemish of an answer, it would say:
"Remember the good; serenade the sad."