Some calls must be left unanswered.
The stocked timber is finally set ablaze,
the year of the amidst passes away with a whimper lathed breath;
the eyes fail to see as smoke veils the gaze.
I sweat too often, and too much, in turn for tears that never came undone–
and I walk, distant ways; starve to death:
put out the ache that plagues my chest.
I saw a man, sharing an eerie resemblance with my tribe;
beaten up, old, sinking into the far end of life.
"Walk up to me, tell me about a real smile, and how to live well."
The next moment he was gone–over to the other end of the park.
When he came back; he stood steps away from my bench,
showing his true smile to a squirrel instead,
as it rummaged the prey up its nest.
He chuckled as bliss overtook him, seeing nature in action,
and God at his best.
"When will I see a face concerned with nothing beside me?",
I knew my demand was in vain, my belief had been long shattered,
leaving me in a free-fall; while Buddha proudly smiled.
Soon the man ventured off, to be never seen again.
He'd come to receive the girl that sat next to me in the bus,
we had the same stop, I discovered late;
it was a strange crossing of steps.
The girl saw me lingering near the park's edge, and rushed the man for home.
"If not for this wretched face, and my horrid self!".
No words would come, I might as well have been deaf!
After a moment, I acted in cowardice and took a breath again,
wanting to never take the path that led me to this bench:
seated in misery, as the lingering pain soiled my chest,
bitten to death by bugs: making every effort to warrant my riddance from this godforsaken bench.
"When Buddha? Your priests deceived you too! And you continue to rest with a smile."
It's a godforsaken rock Sanzhi.