Thursday, November 16, 2017

Chasing mirages

Waiting for the night to wake up to a dawn,For the morning mist to make dew with the lawn,To glimpse the chirping thrush, strut on the ground,As the curious squirrels, scurry around.
Simple pleasures that now are rare, less found;
Lost among chores that seem far more profound,
And honourable jobs that buy our good days,
With promises to pay big soon; Someday.
Out to change the world, make a dent, we say,
Held firm by the charms of the silicon sway,
Eyes mesmerised by our shiny screens,
Mind skips to savour the flavours in our meals.
They say, birds in the sky neither sow nor they reap,
The flowers in the garden, need no chiffon and no crepe,
Yet, they live, fly free, are more beautiful than we,
In the best of our garbs ever can be.
Midnight. It’s time again to fall asleep,
The charm of the dream still strong bitter sweet,
There are bills to pay and promises to keep,
But you hear a soul somewhere silently weep.
Then slumber arrives and the body rests,
While the universe conjures our next day’s tests,
And again we’d miss a beautiful morn,
Chasing mirages ever since we were born.

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