Fragments of Identity
Seasons.. they come and go,
Ah, fleeting flocks of flamingos.
Hope.. evanesces into nothingness,
Like camphor in a white, silent bowl.
Passion.. my broken wings of brass,
Duelling against the might of fate.
Illusions.. desert mirages,
Bidding us farewell before sunset.
Faith.. like running water,
Slips through our teasing fingers.
Solitude.. the chatter of a silent mind,
Dipping thoughts in a thick white fog.
Old age.. the remembrance,
Of all that lingers within..
As a king, as a slave,
As a hater, as a lover,
As the brave, as the coward..
I prosper and perish,
Yet remain the same,
Still, I search for my identity.
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