No lament, but willingness

Pravin Thongam

The pitch-black space of mind,
The source of all mysteries erupt there.
The pitch-black space of mind -
Where twinkling moving lights dwell in thousands.
And, my mind feels the torture of the passing seconds,
Shall I relinquish myself or shall I beaver away ?

Gone are our good days in good celery,
From a corner of my mind,
Distant past waves us with sedative smile.
And suddenly, return to be in wry again apace !
Oh, what an excrucriation that is to me !
Inducing me hanker for those exhilarating unreturnable, old days to return again.

And even if they return again, would such upbeat moments remain the same ?
All these peripheries of life we never think of is, at times, a nightmare.
Time elapses, each second is miniature now,
All sprightly visages turn diffident.
Vanquish my fear, vandalize it till it turns up;
I have only me for this.

Aye! Putting a stop on my vacillation is only the solution.
All my egregious nightmares will fade away
In course of time.
My soul will enliven me, make me a spry being.
And at that moment, am sure I will know what really life is.  
Am sure I will know what really life is
In some splendid twilight later, for sure.
And this is just hope.