How would I know, if someone thinks of me
In this life, In this time, In this world
In this orb variegated, of struggle and strife
Short and tense, devoid of sense, thoughtless I lie
Lost I stand, amidst a throng I wander,
Staring aimless , still sinking far into the expanses
of soul spirit and mystery,
Oh, the heart, bleeding profusely
Say, do you think truly Is your song faithful
And your thoughts virtue? How would I write?
What words may convey the song I hear,
From the smile I see,
sinking deep in the cold recesses of the heart, innocently,
what name, what place, where from does it come to me?
“Oh The winds did sing it softly”
“Why so late in life, tenderly silently?”
fears strike as tears roll down,
the cheeks, uncontrolled, freely
Why, a desire, a fire, a sweet tune
On the strings of the lyre,
Will The Song fix the broken heart,
Or the windowsill be ready
to place the shining daffodils
Destiny plays across the oceans
No more useful,
The Trojans or The Horse wooden;
Greece or Troy –Hell or Eden
How can The Heart bridge the two worlds apart?
Can the smile be the message or the lines from The Song?
Telling me I am not wrong, that faith is strong with honesty
And that is how I would know if someone truly thinks of me.