The storm when blows in a fit of fury
The words of wisdom stand shrouded in glory
The rustle of dead leaves heaped on the floor
Does not cease to rush in through the room’s door…
The pattering raindrops on moist window panes
The honking horns speed across the memory lanes
The magical clap sticks played by the cloud
The words that were once lived but never said aloud...
The soporific solitude that liberates the soul
A tranquil mind is only part of the whole
The bit that is left keeps searching in the dark
If any
serenity is still left in the spark!
A beam of faith stands so near, yet so far
Convictions ever will be what they always are
Standing at crossroads when you are lost in your
dreams
You are still awake my dear, is all what it seems…
Yes, you are still alive!
