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Untitled
by SHWETA KOIRALA
| FROM ISSUE # 64 (April 2001) | IN THIS ISSUE | |||
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Beneath the vastness of the evening sky, The evening stretches to night I look up at the sky
I walk along, a lonely figure on the road.
I meet a man who thinks so much like me,
He questions life and wonders about the world.
Of our existence,
Of our survival
I cannot answer him
I cannot help him
Coz those were my questions too.
The sky is enveloped by stars
In the midst of the calm, dead night,
They twinkle in that extreme height
The man voices my thoughts again,
Wondering how these small stars
Can look so peaceful, so bright.
The world below them is in chaos,
People know not what to do,
Hunting for reasons they will never find.
And curse it for looking so mockingly beautiful
I look around and see no one
The man beside me had gone
Was he my dream, my imagination?
Or was he my own soul?