It seems right
to think that forty nine years
of the life
mother took as she went away,
the rest only is a slow forward journey towards the obvious
I am only bidding my time
till the that day, that moment.
How did the bull reach the empty
bosom of the river?
In search of food?
The journey from high ground
must have been unnerving.
Yet it is there,with downcast face
munching on grass
pretty oblivious to the surroundings.
The purposelessness grows in an uneasy pace
as the days pass by,
The grass on other grounds grows
greener only increasing the dimension
of the empty spaces,
Even a thorough sweeping of the corners of your inmost rooms
yields nothing but a void.
One should have foreseen
such days, and kept in readiness, but who bothers to imagine darkness and empty roads
when the sun shines bright
and the sparrows fill the air with their chirping!
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