Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Random Thoughts

They come, they linger, they vanish.
Who keeps a track anyway?
They are rough, in a turmoil.
Like the waves of a stormy sea.
They are flashes of images,
Like the dream we never recall.

They are wise: tested by time,
Like the old man squatting under the banyan tree...
Lost in another world,
Oblivious of the boy sitting beside him,
Staring at his kite
And dreaming that it will soar
High up in the sky one day...
And be one with his dreams.
The boy who never stops his chatter,
The proud aspirant who loves to boast!
They are beyond the parameters of space and time
They are swift and quick.
They are the droopy eyed dreamer who dreams on...
His dreams come, linger, vanish
And the old man : the dreamer
Not so unaware of the little boy as it appeared before,
Clings to his dream : the little boy.
The little boy, whose gaze dares to follow his kite.
And thus the old man...
Ventures into this untrodden world,
Of thoughts, of aspirations, of a nameless pursuit.
Who keeps a track anyway?

They are all old men,
Oblivious of the track.
They come, they linger, they vanish.
Who keeps a track anyway?

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