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Sometimes, somewhere, out of sight

Without rhyme or reason.

I walk by myself in the fading light,

Pondering the changes of the season.

I marvel at the beauty of this cycle.

Oh cynical me is shattered.

Witness to this pan galactic miracle,

All black thoughts are scattered.

I struggle to find the words,

Nuances and gestures to say.

Do these expressions even exist?

Or shall I invent them this day?

A wobbly moon, drunk on splendor.

Stumbling across the sky.

The stars so stunningly stratospheric,

Reflected in your blue eye.

The Pleiades seven shimmering sisters,

Staring straight through me.

Andromeda painted with bright colours,

Fills my heart with glee.

But then the magic spell is broken,

And I see what things truly are.

A pale blue speck of dust our planet,

Circling a small orange star.

And on this tiny speck, we humans,

Have drawn imaginary lines.

The blood spilled for them is real,

So are the broken spines.

This war for what and whom we wage?

Our master on the throne?

Or is it some unrecognisable monster,

Who we think of as our own.

Then another spell is cast,

Do you know what I see?

These lines erased, this bloodshed stopped,

The whole planet, one country.

But alas I know the truth too well,

That day will come to pass.

But I won’t be here to see it,

I’ll be beneath the grass.

Till then fight your wars oppressors,

Enjoy your tiny victories.

In the end it’s I who’ll win,

For now do as you please.

Remember this though cruel tyrant,

History does not forget.

Your names will be the greatest curses,

Your works seen with regret.

One day banjara’s words will rise,

And tear down this facade.

The seasons will once again sing,

From the lips of another bard.