Winding courses, sinking boulevards, swallowed avenues, unsure trails;
The new moon…
Long hours of darkness;
The haunting silence of the night
Not a ray of light, not a star in the sky.
The full moon…
Scarce traces of life,
Echoes in the night
Fingers of light here and there.
And it strikes me again….
People need people... yet not everybody has a shoulder to lean on,
In happiness or in strain, we need someone to share and abide.
Everybody has a story, yet very few set their ears to listen
And as I paint the backdrop, I begin to understand this state.
Behind the scenes are stories not yet told, words not yet spoken, paths not yet trod, countries not yet lead, files not yet opened, battles not yet fought, the list is endless.
But when I look deeper I see it in a different angle: perhaps this is pride not yet overcome, secrets not yet told, insecurities not yet surmounted, lives not yet lived!
Fear, pain, regret, mistrust, pride, vengeance, jealousy…
Shadows; leaping shadows, crawling shadows… not an ear to listen.
The noise of toils, woes and struggle; survival...
In the dark of the night, sniffs and moist eyes grace the darkness: stress marks on the foreheads of many.
Another day, no ear, no shoulder: a smile deceived by the strain of their curves
But, the silence prevails.
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