Often times promises
Seems to be the lies
Often stuck in fear of being prosaic.
The azure sky is wailing aloud
The crimson sun on its way to ground
The stillness of breeze over river water sound
It’s time to move on, time to dust off the old wound.
Just living in past that’s hurting have no point
Even when things don’t work we give a second trial
Why not my previous life, I nurtured with travail
Bore fruit, my eyes saw, under daylight.
Team up oh my soul fordone
River always finds its ways
Through the stones or between the stones
Possibility always lies in globe of wise.
Poet’s note: inspired by Seema Taneja ma’am poem on lies. I have tried to encourage the devastated soul to create new ways to be back as gold.