There are songs that I never sang ,
words that I never wrote ,
tunes I didn’t compose
even if I’d had the time
I would not have done so ;
Would instead have stared
into some far flung horizon ,
which itself escaped my notice
having only imagined it be there ;
an amorphous boundary
delineating the Nothing from
the nothing else , the nowhere from
that somewhere left undiscovered ,
and knowing that ,
I never said a word about it ,
instead kept quiet
till the illusion faded.
hmmm.. interesting thoughts….quite profound.
No one travel the way a poet travel with his imaginations and thoughts..felt a deja vu..
I saw him once.