I’ve never uncovered through the passages of time,
Why my wandering thought refused to find a rhyme,
With many realities of life since my prime,
Not even when I finally discovered myself to be a clime.
I’ve locked horn together through history with lingering memories,
To unravel why our lives are inevitably curled around strange mysteries,
Oh! The mystical memories of onsavouring the genesis of social maladies,
Still; memories, which come and go, as nightingales, full of soothing melodies.
I’ve wandered in the wilderness of my lustful thoughts,
Crossing through painful moments of turbulent drought,
Which WE weary sons of helpless but suffering mortals are caught,
Deep in the cold dungeon of THEIR plot.
I’ve relived from the romantic room of my passionate breast,
Great vision of the birth-time of my ageing quest,
When sufferings’n’sorrows, hostilities’n’hatred shall pass beyond to rest,
For beautiful and wonderful memories, once more to gain, eternal conquest.
I’ve finally arrived from the journey through “THE COLD MOONS”,
Where the “WHEELS” of fate betray life too soon,
With new memories of hope, love, peace’n’tranquility, forever clung to heart,
As Oak-Tree does, to the warmth embrace of mother earth.
