loneliness speaks the language of the dead unheard by any but only You and I, poets tirelessly speaking of this moment and artists trying hard to capture in colors, dead men rise to speak about it birds and beasts preserve this moment in solitude they seek the euphoric joy, in loneliness. loneliness, the moment of revelation soul's exposure to the mightiest of silence the end of a beginning a blissful beginning unto an end.
Fear not for the future
Weep not for the past
A lifetime we live
Without a second’s future in glimpse,
And, without the past we shall leave empty.
The present is the gift to treasure
Unwrap it second by second, layer by layer
Receive with contentment the present Of living in the presence of eternal present.
The dusky atmosphere
Reflects the sorrowful mind
Dressed with colorful anguish.
Along the dusty road
The little traveler walks
Wiping his tears non-stop.
Clad only in nudity
The child eats only hunger
Reflecting signs of utter negligence.
Deprived of a decent survival
He walks along the dusty road
In search of the unknown loss.
Shaggy hair dirty eyes
A lean body - protruding ribs
Accompanies his shadow.
Thoughts of past and fear of dying
Shivers him along the way
As he hugs himself from the whispering wind.
Oozing saliva drawing sleazy flies
To have a sip and bask in the odor
Of a boy alive, yet dead within.
Love appears far and hopeless
Yet he traverses the impossible
Clenching the steely effort, silently.
Hunger is still his meal.
And nudity is still his dress.
