Unknown Walks Poem by Aman Saa

There are too many truths to be known.
I do not know where I go next,
to a lie or a truth.
In this journey of getting old,
we might meet again.

Even if two travellers
are with two destinations to reach,
with two unrelated dreams they may still meet
in the same carriage,
on the same track and
share a cup of tea over the same sunset.

You shall never know
who is looking for your touch at this moment,
what you have lost or left in the last moment.
There is a story that you do not know,
shall be read and someone shall remember you,
your smile, the float of a play on your lips
yet, yet you shall neither feel the joy
nor know what is.

The mad man shows that
there are too many joys to be known.
As many are there definitions of old things
so many are the colours of youth,
so many are the ages of seasons
and length of time.
You can play memories like old songs to laugh,
weep, love and perhaps also to live what is no more.

Time has left ways of healing,
but now I am in love with these small smiles
wet in the eyes intensely, glittering gifts of time.
Those who get cured of love
are those who have never burnt
in the passionate midnight or
in the charm of the fire of moon.
You can now stare at the sky with an empty heart.
The sky might befriend you,
paintings might become colourful
with company and you shall silently
celebrate the realisation that tomorrow nothing shall remain.
If the smile of seeking nothing blossoms
in your face this night,
You are ready to be alive.