Two layers of meaning; your note on the diary,
Kept on the old wooden desk; unattended.
… Seen the pages where you have slipped,
Things you could have written long before.
Did you travel too fast? Did you darken your thoughts?
Something has already gone beyond your reach.
There was a visible labour, an attempt to survive,
But the light was always dim, shadows lengthened.
An irresistible desire; not counting loss or gain,
Roamed like flies and insects on the summer time.
You tried, pushed yourself to the life; bright and burning
Not cried over for the loss, not allowed to flow from your eyes.
Boredom and weariness- eating your flesh and bones,
The stress and strain couple – you felt undone at the end.