In the quest for happiness how many did conquer?
I see through the half painted curtains of dawn
The quest for which they call life’s struggle is irrevocably reborn.
The sky, today reminded the old birds of their flight
Most of us recall the world has survived.

How many of us had voice, but not words to express?
The quiet love of hearts in spring
And then, moonflowers as fresh as unanswered grief.
How many of us did toil to survive?
Lemon trees by their scent singing lullabies being alive.

You see, the happiness they seek for which they call life
Has been there somewhere near the memory’s soil.
Reminiscing the days past;
Of people and of home , of despair and of acceptance.

How then are we to judge?
How then are we to defend?
Why don’t we be the kindness we seek for?
Only the soul knows which one safeguards from the whole world.
The single drop from the rolling streams adds an echo of forgiveness
In each fading morn.

The truth , it seems is a distant friend;
A friend that would walk barefoot in fields
A friend of silence, a friend of heart
A friend like drifting clouds
Gracefully conjuring the magic of a realm living in my heart.

The flaw of being unloved was not my creation.
Dear heart, talking with the broken parts of soft pebbles
Could have been the meadows in art.
Dear heart, often the unloved at the trial might speak of nothing with tears.
In the dust of uncountable years
The beauty of spring stands still
And the world unfurls the hues of solace in the name of silver linings.

Departing in Autumn with sorrowful eyes
Smiling under orange trees again shall revive.
Mercy, the fresh gift for waiting for too long
Shines like a pearl in this ocean’s journey at dawn.