Difficult to Imagine

I would never know the conclusions of my writing

After all these years, I feel I have just started the journey

This creativity and all the wonderful definitions I know not much

I just write, trying to make my way through the intriguing haze

Fine man of letters has been read along the way

A reason to be inspired as I spoke to them in my way

Not only their spirits endured the tumultuous ages

Along with their stories which always feel new to the keen eyes

They mysteriously evolve and remain relevant

Often have I paused now and then to contemplate on this

Whether my words would have the same intensity

I would not want to stretch this; the illusionary future

These contemplations are not rare, but rarely expressed

While busy observing and absorbing life, there’s no time

Probably, it is futile to think so much and weaken the mind

Conclusions are not for me to arrive at; only time will speak


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