August: The month of hope

And so, how it feels to wait ? 
Is it parallel to being in July
Or Is it parallel to being the last raindrop 
Lingering all the while for it's turn 
to fall, patter and burn
Or is it alike an eye holding mess with concern
Might be like the bird being in the middle of nowhere
With no concern to discern

Moments became memories, memories never flew 
When, hopelessly hopeful month is in the queue
Unabashed it is to say that August pours in the void
And helps in banishing what's destroyed
But isn't the feeling upcoming parallel to being devoid?
Or might be alike the realization of becoming paranoid
In spite of those incanted words of the proficient necromancer
summoning the depth within you
Because of the chronicles you went through
And so, to know the truth is to know the lie
Cause it's more difficult to live than to die
To gaze through galaxy and reach the limpid is to know the spy
Cause what appears to be isn't the real color of the sky
Possession of wings doesn't mean you can fly
The wet too can be dry
Just like inhumane memory to which you can't say goodbye
Now, Alzheimer's is the solution
Cause Remembrance became malady
look at the dear tragedy, result of which is
A Poor atrocious rhapsody!

Copyright © Ziva Vaidya | Year Posted 2024

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