Nameless frames on empty walls,
Endless roads on burning fields,
Pelting rains and thunder squalls,
Time watches the spinning wheels.
Darkness floats by quiet moonlight,
She dances to the burning light,
Glowing red crimson skin
Her love conceals the pain within.
Walking on the pebbled path,
braving the winter's wrath,
A wave of memories washes ashore,
leaving broken shells to explore.
Wrapped in the fabric of time,
Of love buried in brine,
Rises a moment of truth,
Anchored in the reality of death.
Gyanban Thoughts: a few lines, a few wavelets moving back an forth in time, sometimes relevant, sometimes irrelevant but never dismissive of its momentary reality.