I talk of a song,
A song that echoes itself to flight,
And makes me ponder over its plight.
This song got no place on the space of my lips
As the merry tune confined itself to its own waters,
Satiated with the darkness of the light.
The night that clothes the world puts me at bay
From a place that once on my skin lay.
Perhaps the song’s prayers were answered.
And, God in all His mercy taught me not to sing it to it.
The dreary stream complain’d of a broken bond.
The most cherished rivulets the passersby haunt
O, God, in thy mercy, grant ‘em some peace!
I have but newly learnt to pray for the song and the geese
As You taught me both- Fortitude and Gratitude.
Woe is me if I forget the merry tune!
For the merriest of encounters all lie dead in a view
And the merriest of views are viewed once in a blue moon!
But my fifteen years could not harness me well.
And the sixteenth year taught me gratitude.