A meditation on despair, resurrection, and the fragile courage of hope.

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The pale sun loses its gold crown,

tired of all the sickness that it sees

The exhausted wind slowly dies down,

hurt by cruelty in times like these

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The birds tenderly flap their wings,

flying to their refuge and shelters

The galaxies begin to appear in strings,

seeing the sinful, both the young and elders

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The moon tiredly pulls itself up,

fearing the world’s misery that it beholds

The blue-black sky drinks from the inky cup,

witnessing the race of all silvers and golds

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The clock reverses, and another cycle starts,

light wages a war on the black, silent night

A new day is in the offing, as written on the charts,

time passes so gently, yet great is its plight

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The Milky Way breathes a great sigh of relief,

the tired moon dips and smiles a sleepy smile

The lonely stars go all off, in sorrow and in grief,

it is over, yet another day, another tough trial

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The morning breeze moves, playing the allegro,

the waking sun bats his big, orange eyes

The birds and the bees and one odd crow,

it is chaos once again, all laughter and cries

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There is a resurrection of life, once feared dead,

all the colours break out in a dazzling bloom

The yellow is vibrant, brilliant is the blue and the red,

brilliant is the sight of the peacock’s new plume

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The hope of a new day is smiling once again,

serenity is promised and peace is a white dove

The golden butterflies start hovering and reign,

life welcomes me again with a promise of love