A year that was, will be

This year passed in confinement.

Detached eyes and ears,

It also passed in sublime seclusion,

Time spent with me, myself

Many times in days and nights

I died and I cried

I also laughed and smiled

I did resurrect.

I lived through my virtual pen

That brought to me loving eyes and listening ears

This year, like the year that was

Without much attached rules and laws

My breathing space of hope and despair

Went... in an unheard fulfilment.

Content.

I have nothing to look forward to

Past is the future without a hint or clue.

Time is the predicament.

Nothing will change

In the minds weird, strange

Hunger for anger all around

Distaste for peace

Starving the poor without ground

Wouldn’t be closer to bliss

That, my pen would reflect.

Except for the sky on which I’d walk

I know the earth would feel

The flowers with whom I’d talk

I know grasses will see

Leaves will drop to heal

Their touch and their smell would come to me

I know, in the form of family and friends

With bones and flesh

Alive and lively for the sake of a few

My heart would beat next year too

With love, without repent.