Akhand Singh

Deep inside I am breathing.

Winter breeze reminds me that I am warm

Dying roots and falling leaves might say a lot

Deep inside I am still dreaming.

So many sunsets I’ve witnessed

Yet the more was the sunrise

Who says the weather is predictable

I’ve seen snow in summers as a surprise.

Falling stars always whispered about the other worlds

So did the birds always murmured

I wish I could move or I could fly

Instead, with every minute I only withered.

Four season of my life was all I had

The first one started when I was planted.

In the womb of soil

I spent my first years nourished with love and care.

What should I say of that feeling

The words I might use are really rare.

When I grew as a seedling

I knew it was the second season

Sooner I was to grow tall

Excited but afraid, I had my reason.

I was young and I was naïve

To see the world I tried to move out of my hive.

I barely survived that horrible storm

Yet deep inside I knew I had to move on.

The third season was the season of love

She was beautiful, my dearest dove.

Everyday she would sit on my branch

We’ll talk for hours and I wouldn’t miss a chance.

After one day she never came back

The love I had stayed with me, on top of my rack

Sooner the fourth season arrived

I was sad yet happy that for this long I survived.

I saw miracles and I understood life !

Now when I have a count of breath left

I want to see that new world.

May be I can walk for the first time

Or may be I can find my lost love.

© Akhand Singh, 2012 © An Empty Glass, 2012