Monday, October 12, 2009

A no man's land to call one's own

It lays spread before me
Merlot blanket of time and tide
This glossy breadth of upheavals
That, in due course, would subside

Some day this will be paradise
The home about which I’d lied
But this eternity, it’s a wasteland
Where hopes and tears collide

1 comment:

Jay Shanker said...

That is entropy at work. Order is a transient state.

448 of 534

Rough day at work. There are a lot of things up in the air. That is such a fascinating thing about life and time...how days end without clos...