Whatever is lost It exists somewhere, in some form, some way, But not for the one who longs for it today. The seeker tries with all his might, Loses his peace, day and night. Crossing the edge of madness so steep, Staking it all, yet nothing to keep. Each moment passes in the endless fight, Yet despair remains in the fading light. It is not where it ought to be, And what exists, drifts silently. Gazing at the barrenness wide, He feels the emptiness inside.
About the Creator
Karan w.
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