By Raunak Mandal
Leaves wither as autumn ends
So does many lives and many trends.
And old friends become lost memories
While the scars on my skin
have been tattooed for centuries.
Yet I walk up the stairs of despair
Leaving ignorance in the bottom
Where it's fair to say it was unfair.
The top of the mountain is not the end
It is the view from which sadness mends.
If philosophy fails in search for naked truth,
See yourself undressed in front of the mirror.
The reflection of bones and blood are hidden.
Even reflections teach us truth is buried,
The guilt of you or the sin of I
None of it matters when we both die.
For birth and death are our minds chosen points
And life is the line that connects the dots.
But it is a circle in the end
And so we keep spinning for there was no end.
If you ask me now a question
of the life I live.
I will choose to bury
the regrets of yesterday
And wait for the pain
that will come tomorrow.
But my answer
will be constant like the circle.
It will be silence!
Coming from a nameless tree.
Waiting for its leafless branches
To be covered by the cold winter snow.