Sadness Makes You Old Poem by Ayni Poet

Your sharp rays are hanging onto blue walls of rocks
Made of a rotten foam,
They're hiding lately in a dusty closet
Scattered like beads on hot sand.

Your piano keys have forgotten the allegro melodies
Or maybe they don't recall the existence of a piano anymore
The happy fingers can't touch the velvet heart
In which all of your priceless pearls used to be stored safely.

You frenetically stare into the blurry mirror,
It's not the Truth you're seeing,
The eyes weep stars of silver shine and time.
Your chest flips like a coin spinning on the table,
Hoping to catch those falling stars, millions coming and going,
And revive.
But your cheeks feel them as heavy as all the seconds that went by,
Since the Birth of Time.

What is missing, I ask this wrinkled soul?

There's a time to die from a body!
There's a time to live in the Absolute.