twaiku #3 - || faraway fantasies ||

You are the gentle cradle I yearn for
but will never know the feel of,
just like his arms.

- conversations with a crescent moon

|| The Drifter ||

A drifter my soul is now,

without any roots.
Devouring islands of newness

and novelty for survival.

In my dreams, I float

through broken pieces
of a mirror, each a

different shade of transience.

When the elating moments

of exploration evaporate,
I am engulfed by
a web of mundane affairs.

I am summoned, into the
lair of oblivion that lies in the
murky depths of the sea of ennui.
And I let myself sink slowly.

But, a dwindling light beckons

at the far end of my vision.
Eyes hungrily on the tiny glow,

I claw my way back and flop down.

Persist I shall, hopping through isles

to where the light takes me;

To the day I kindle the eternal fire,

with my mortality.

|| Until then, today is just another day ||