Long before their talks won’t get over,
It was almost as such the glimpses of the unknown was preferable,
And long before I would know their cause,
I will defy every lesson to live a life much away from them.
All of it was thought as if it meant something,
Some words scattered on the streets meant to be cue cards for the future,
Hopes breathing out of the ashes, those petting on my back,
All of it, undeniably, shiningly led me to these words, scattered as they are.
Limiting my senses, and letting it all go in the midst of the night,
Oh! The similar nights in some of which really I wasn’t alone,
I was full of purpose as though hiding would also mean something,
As calm as it is now, I’m on the wrong side of the tracks and I like it here.
Interpretations, if they couldn’t be learnt, how can there be so variations,
Each day, each face, each idea, just the same, yet so different,
That I fill this paper each day, with the same will, but it will defer in meaning,
None of which can be owned, driven and be shown to others for definitive purposes.
I can’t tell how much it means to be here, seeing it all in an absolution,
Of it all can be logically broken, in moments past this,
For coming in pieces, unknowing how much of it was in the past,
Lying and stacking up all in beautifully curated melancholy.
Take some time to read, or I should move much forward than me,
For you to be left behind so much so, you come here for once to know it all,
That it was always you behind it, while trying to make for a meaning like this,
For against you, I can’t find nothing so meaningless.
It is the end of me, an end where I’m never to start again or never to stop again,
I look at the mountains where I’ve left my promises as baggage full of stones,
Out of new realisations that everything means nothing to me,
Somehow, still these words will make some sense and steer me out of it.