Can I be, a seed that is left in the wild? Probably to sprout or just be as it is And not sprout. Can I be, a dewdrop on a wild flower? Left to be drunk by a bee or just is as it is And be passionately kissed by the Sun. Can I be, a teardrop, rolling down? Unknowingly disappearing on to the chest or Just be as it is. Can I be, that pain, deep down left to stay right there? Stuck in your throat or Just be as it is. Can I be, that last breath, which seems confused at times? Trying to convey many unspoken, unfulfilled thoughts, Or can I just be as it is …that last breath.
Sometimes, I just want to fly away and sit by a coast dotted with tiny creeks and gaze at the pebbles sleeping peacefully at the bottom of the stream while drenching my feet in water as pure as an infant.
I remember when I was just 16, So much of my life was yet unseen. I was searching for something to help me discover, What set me apart, made me different from others. And there in my neighborhood, where we
All things come and they go leaving behind the ones who stay, wondering into clouds and looking at the sky getting carried away by the wind and stopping by with the rain leaving behind the places that would no more