The greenwood trees have knelt down,
The smoke of the stage is going down,
Lights are slowly fading.
The play is finally over,
As the sun is falling further.
And the wind is softly rolling
Along with the forest leaves,
stepping on soft melted earth
A stranger slowly walking.
He is walking away from the sleepy stage
Like a frenzy, silent sage
From the confusing life of crisis
Right into the place,
Where you finish tne chapter
And don’t want to turn the page.
But if you ever mind,
To turn the next page,
Then you'd find something common;
The last man to left behind
Has come back once again,
And acting as a baby reborn.
That’s the person I'm speaking of-
The man in the corner we always ignore.
But some where in this stage of the world,
He always exists
Lake a song heard never before.
A man that never speaks his mind.
A man that we never mind to care.
Who takes nothing away from us
But still has a fare share.
A man who comes to this difficult course
With so much youth! On a path of rose.
Then colours the world for everyone else
With his critical prose.
But now he is walking away
To a place we'd never know,
with a mind so blue.
The stage is silent.
The play is over.
But is he over too?