O Holy Zephyr…

The dark lane was deserted. These walls won’t worry about yesterday, but I’ve got to go back to find where I’ve come from. Who wouldn’t love to walk through the strange days of delusion? These are the days of deadly serpents and swindler servants. I don’t see sunshine. It must have moved out to the west, crossing the silver rays. Miles away from the clouds, counting on to the whisper of long gone days, I wait in here for a fairy to disembark… to tell me an untold tale…

Mama never used to tell me stories. I always had an enthrallment towards fairy-tales. The moment you endure yourself to a tale is the time you let all your woes go forth, because you have been mesmerized and have been taken away from the real to a virtual world. This empty street has a tale to tell. I remember the bells that used to unease me when I was in my deep sleep prior to the dawn. Bells always bring aching scenes from the memory. The moment you glimpse those scenes, profanity shuns and shuts all the doors.

The dark lane has got no lanterns to light up. The one that was flickering has got its way to the dark era.

“Hey Man, how far is your journey?” He asked himself.

…but he never got any answer to it.

Perhaps, the heart by no means wanted to betray his conscience. I remember the lane filled with lovers and pleasers a long while ago. They all met up in a forlorn land. Few of them exchanged thoughts and the rest smiled. The grand doll house and the huge Christmas tree aroused her splendor in a touch with tenderness. So soothing yet too throbbing…

“Hey Man, how far would you wait?” He asked himself.

…but he never got any answer to it.

Every moment I spend on this lane brings back the memoir of a juggler spreading his cards for the rest to choose. Alone in the glitters of yester year’s pride, they chose the card ‘Joker’. The long gone desire rises up from the east crossing the west to find a reason for me to smile. Her name was sculpted at the corner of a wooden piece. My soul shivers upon the mighty love’s death. I’m no more a young lad who used to move faster than a fiery. My grey hair whispers in silence. The name I read was the ache that tattooed on my heart… The rage of a wounded dog spilled the last blood drops.

“Hey Man, how deep was your desire?” He asked himself.

…but he never got any answer to it.

The lonesome street had pictures sculpted on the ancient walls. It’s the same street… It’s the same dreams… The month and the day cycles again, bringing fond gentleness around the corner. On this wrecked wooden bench while I seat myself, the downpour falls at its best… to set the street with the colorful melodrama I had once…

The same old bells chant a blissful beat along with the zephyr… Miles away from the clouds, counting on to the whisper of long gone days, I wait in here for a fairy to disembark… to tell me an untold tale…