Library
Perhaps, This If Life.
Perhaps, This If Life.
Listening to songs on the radio,
With a quill and paper before me,
I sit in the courtyard,
Thinking of how the stars shine,
How the moon changes from
Waning gibbous to waning crescent,
How the earth keeps on
Revolving and rotating,
And how people keep
Changing and dying,
How once in a blue moon,
Someone meets an acquaintance
They had long forgotten about it,
But strike up a conversation nonetheless.
I think of where that street dog went,
The one who came after me every day
For food, but has suddenly disappeared.
I think of the bougainvillaeas that I used
To see while walking home, but they seem
To have withered along with spring.
My mind goes back to the brown leaves
Fallen on the ground, which crunched
When I stepped on them,
Oh! how lovely they would have been
When they were part of the tree,
All green and bright with a tint
Of brown? Or maybe yellow.
I think of how the waves rush to the
Shore and go back again to the sea,
Of how the sunflowers face the sun
During the day and face down at night,
As if they despise the moon for coming up.
I think of how the mountains hold a million secrets,
Of how the rivers flow and merge at some point,
Of how the owl wanders only in the night sky,
And how after every cold and white winter,
The world gets painted again in the spring,
And how after the spring, nature relishes
The summer sun and how after every summer,
Autumn comes with its brown and slightly coloured streets.
I wonder about the existence of living beings,
And how everything eventually leads to death.
Maybe, life is all about relations, changes, the
Unsaid words, incomplete memories, and
The little details that we miss out on,
Like the tiny ants building a fort,
The dew on the leaves in the morning,
The flowers dying in a corner
Or the last time we made an effort
To make contact with a loved one.
My thoughts finally come to a halt,
And I feel the cool breeze brushing
My face lightly. Perhaps, this is life.
