Transformation: In Waiting
The pale pall of gloom descends upon the little sky
playing hide and seek among the wind-excited foliage.
A strange amalgamation
of light and darkness
tugs at the strings of delicately hanging strains of an old tune,
with which
one is clueless, of
the exactness of music,
which is neither pain
nor happiness.
It is nothing that leads you either down some old road
of nostalgic pleasure
or through the static, still
afternoon monotony of
repeated moments
that often passes through your somehow reverberating sojourn with time and timelessness,
randomly vacillating between thoughts and calm.
There is still a discovery
waiting somewhere,
An awakening that is beyond
the reach of your seemingly
self sufficient yet
infant self
which a cosmic turn of events
may change.
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