The Passage

Between the rising light and its fall 
I daily follow unchanged paths 
No wonder I take similar turns
and end up at same place to burn

  

The passage takes me to a daily routine 
Where I often cross an empty bench in the green

Like a liberated soul trapped in initial chores
carrying a saddle, promise to take him to future shores
That lone soul waits with great expectations
Eager for a world of new transformations

When I walk by he looks at me without a hunch 
I have often seen a school boy sitting on that bench

Insulated from world and far from horizon
Taken by the tide and drifting in the motion
I seldom feel this could go on forever
They sit aside and look together

When I walk by they never seem to tell the difference
I have often seen a couple cuddle on that bench

In the mist of the times and hustle of technique
For the tough world one cannot be weak
The busy soul explores the cell and nothing within
Everything seems small when ears are plugged in

When I walk by he seems to plunge in trench
I have often seen a young executive texting on that bench

Juggling with the swiftness of passing time
the eccentricity of unknown, he can’t decide

From the heads which once ruled the era

Comes a spirit which searches his saga

When I walk by he searches himself in my discernment
I have often seen the old man sitting on the bench

The passage with its never changing scene
compels me to reach for places unseen 
Before I keep my dreams aside to fill my pockets
I search my soul for the lost attempts

When I walk by and the scenery looks quite
I have often seen myself settling down on that bench