Reflections of your inner self.
The holiday oh so near….
You reminisce of the life you led.
Is it what you really wanted?
So many past friends and past loves.
Will they come back to haunt you?
The years have past,
youth you think was squander away.
Life turned you old before your time had come.
Too driven, to serious, all to succeed.
It was at least what you perceived.
Quietly sitting along the fireside…
Warmth, so welcomed soothing the old bones.
Thinking,
thinking of those younger years….
Do you have regrets?
You took life by storm.
Never to stop to catch your breath.
Moving, never stopping, day or night.
Loves a mere distraction…
Taking too much time to hold.
Working,
the relationship was too much to ask.
Business…
Such a battlefield, it was your war.
Relish in the spoils, thriving your ego….
Feeding upon you, making you feel so strong.
You took no prisoners.
Running over anything that got in your way.
Friends long since parted their ways.
It was alright to you…
No time you had any way.
Lovers ran away…
You stifled and then always ignored.
Too lonely of life for them to live.
You now sit here all alone.
You tell yourself you can't be lonely.
Setting out to accomplish what you thought you must.
Your only goal was to achieve.
Now you sit just starting to see the light.
You just, all threw away.
No family do you have to hold…
Loneliness your only companion.
Sitting,
sitting in that big chair.
Looking out the horizon,
knowing any day...
Your time is near and what really you have.
To show for all those years.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fantastic documentation of old life. Yes, sometimes feel we also death as a holiday. Feel it by heart real holiday is death. The reason of committing suicide, it is one among the other mental reactions. Well. Better make the holiday within our everyday-life by surrendering oneself to the feet of almighty... that conscious process is more powerful than death perhaps and it needs no age.10 Regards, pranab