With every moment that we grow old we are expected to become wiser and unbiased regarding the way we see things in our life.
Whereas in reality we tend to grow more biased and get involved in bigotry because probably we have seen too much to believe into something that is not a part of our memory.
Everything we see is a consequence of our disposition which after a point of time becomes rigid and we fail to recognize anything that was not a part of the ‘choices’ that we made.
The dawn’s grace, the night’s face
Ideas die, we stop the chase
Moments depart with invincible pace
I see it all with scars to trace
Embracing mistakes, seizing melancholy
I choose to brook, dodge everything
Absorbing the cold, facing the volley
The leaves fall, trees continue to sing
Contrary to the beliefs, storytellers we are
Spinning tales, joining piece to piece
Craving for the endings, unknown
Who would believe that this process won’t cease?
With dreaded footsteps, I get closer
I see peace amidst chaos, I see her
I see mistakes followed by acceptance
Regrets retreat as I see myself
The wind conspires to teach
The seas exhume their waves
I flow, fizzle, frown, fritter
Summer arrives, I reach the shore
The bruised soul, spirited and spoilt
Learns to love the summer and spring
Abandoned emotions find home
Fear eludes, together we sing.