Gorvachove, Keonjhar, 5 August 2024
Softly I leave the roads I shall not cross again.
In familiar lanes I’ve left behind a young boy
Who used to love strange things: the smell of July rains,
The stillness of misty winter mornings, the sound
Of yellow leaves falling on wind-swept autumn days;
The world is beautiful, and there is not much time
For one who wants to follow the calling of his heart.
All day, all night, sweet music plays all around us.
We live to feast on each moment, to trace the lines
Of maps, to walk the ever-changing maze of roads.
Wherever these wide roads may take me from here on
I shall keep a part of those who have walked with me.
Growing old is the price we must pay to find ourselves.
Thick with the dust of travelled road, grey with the years,
I’ll be a young heart throbbing in an ageing body.
And what shall I wish for myself, as life unfolds?
To strive to be happy, to like myself as I am,
To ache for little things my heart longs for, every day,
To love without keeping scores, to forgive myself,
To be a stranger to ambition, but kin to kindness.
I wish to travel to the very edge of oblivion
To discover why despite everything, we still exist.
