At the End of the Day
At the End of the Day
At the End of the Day
The earth, with its mud-streaked, faded gray shawl,
Has draped the folds of the horizon with deep pathos.
Birds fly from the depths of the clouds,
As if heading towards a welcoming house where evening lamps are lit.
Through the dim veil of sunset,
The endless time's bride casts her frightened eyes towards the sunrise,
Lighting her golden lamp, perhaps waiting for her love,
Who left with a promise to return.
Sighs make the sunset's realm heavy with clouds and mist.
In the light of the lamp brought to the door,
The eternally waiting primordial maiden's mournful eyes
Reflect the tears of the void,
And some longing lover laments,
"Everything is empty,
The sky, the earth, tonight
The universe's compassion
Cannot shed a tear for you."
Hearing this, I remember
How many times I have gone to the temple
And, like a trivial beggar on the street,
Prayed for God's grace.
"Open the door, oh worshiper,
A supplicant has come to your door."
Opening the door,
I see the deity in the shrine,
Offering blood and tears.
The deity said nothing.
Oh, these eyes
Shed no tears for me,
I lament,
Is this the temple of a love-deprived god,
With all compassion emptied?
About the Creator
Silent Night
Lover of words and stories, I write heartfelt poetry and fiction that touch the soul. Join me on a journey through emotions and experiences, Let's celebrate the beauty of storytelling together.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.