A Time To Reflect
When the starless nights are bleakly opaque,
and the sunless days desolately misty,
to steer the astray life across ambiguity maze
in the miasma of misery isn’t easy.
When the garden of flowers turn fawn,
and the pasture grass russet,
the secret tears fill the sea of psyche
for the decrepit hopes to drown.
When the relegated road to travel is long,
and the gifted time fleetingly finite,
my fretful furtive mind
searches for the sensuous perception
of insightful introspection.
The pathway then turns transiently into
the conduit of consciousness,
carving the course of its own.
I saunter steadfast upbeat
in the corridor of sanguinity
to reach resolute the desired destination.
I don’t measure the senseless span
of collapsed space, and deceptive time,
take the tacit route of acuity
across the stardust-swathed argentine nights,
and the sunburst-sequined dazzling days.
I don’t ask the purpose of the journey,
for I won’t ever know,
but wander in the valley of flowers,
and in the dew-donned mesmeric meadow.
I don’t sink hope in the abyss of despair,
but travel with myself content
in the sanguine segment of the new road,
I pave in the time present,
kindle in my onyx mind
the candle of contemplation,
and in its reflection in the mirror of sagacity
I see the self-designed walkway
meander to the timeless realm of bliss.
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