The Past
The domain of the things that are foregone
Is a wild cemetery, a huge burial stretch ,
For the dry thoughts and memoirs - all
Enlivening with hope, as great or small
Forming and shaping an upstart or a wretch
And cheering anew with every next dawn .
Like blurred slides ,scenes glide and move ;
And dewy cold, yet fresh brewing sensation
Prevails along the line of reminiscence smug;
And heavy frozen events are reluctantly dug
Out of the sad grave to re-form the notion
In cloudy symbols and faded colours a few,
The whole past seems as it were to ruffle
And turn into a revolting lot to bring out
A settled, confident self, ready for change ;
Time may cause to encounter things strange ,
Painful, uneasy , prompting a safe rout :
Never to give up, but to go on with the scuffle
Copyright © Vidya Pandarinath | Year Posted 2024
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