The Way Back To Your Home.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

the longer days
were not spent for love at all

as if it was only for the name of it
or the respect for the coming days

thus taking me all from those depressing moments
like a confession that one is lost in the crowd
and could not even remember his name
and that urge to kill oneself with a rope
and then make all those who live guilty of
indifference

yes those days were just made for the passing
nothing remarkable nothing worth the rapture of
an ecstasy, or that exhilaration of finding a
ripe fruit from those deep trees

until one day you see a face that always triggers
you for love, a face that makes you wake up all night
until you kiss it, and then the miracle happens

you expect too much only to find that said body is not
your, or said mind already belongs to the other books
the hands already holding to a bouquet of red roses

when love is found and it is not yours, then you begin
to do all those odd things: one, two, three, till four
till eight,

the hours are long and boring and too hurting
the days even suicidal, until you discover the true
nature of love and the labyrinth towards your self.

you learn, you wipe your tears, you nod and take a walk
back to your home, and then soundly sleep.