AGE- GROWING OLD
With summers and springs,
jogging away,
Marooned winters are not far way….
Seeking pleasures to martyring needs,
A journey with no ends,
But only jumbled means.
Left are all the days in my grip less fist,
Where my belongingness and loneliness lie
Peacefully in a mist.
Lying within my terrestrial ties,
Are all dispatched connections and
Disconnected connections….
Where my connection to be with them is
“WORK IN PROGRESS” with
“NEVER TO BIND”
“AND DO NOT TRY TO FIND”
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