The Bitter-sweet Peace
The dim yellow lights flicker
to the beats of some old melody,
one that is blurred from the memory now.
It feels good though, like homecoming.
The cherished moments once kept in the bottle,
sailing through the waves:
Are they forgotten, or simply lost?
Possibly on a pursuit to see the world,
Or quest to find the family.
Or the tribe of feel-alikes, as one would say.
The Christmasy laughter that continues
and the festive mood fills the year;
The bowl of soup is served with the pale glimpse of joy;
The bells ring in the distance
and all the sorrows are at bay.
The snow all over,
the flower beneath still marking the way.
Its the smell of the lavenders, or peonies.
They are still fresh, and so is the snow.
Someone’s to come, and there’s no way of knowing.
A distant longing and a peculiar comfort in closure
makes everything squared back to where it started.
Through the cold, through the fog, through the silence,
the moment of bliss stands.
See, but never know…
For it stays as long as one doesn’t pay heed.
And in the snap of seconds, away it goes.
I choose to be forever lost in those thoughts
where I sit in the Cabin in the woods;
The one that feels like home,
the one that I have never been to,
the one that has always been a part of me.
It doesn’t make sense;
Not now, not ever.
But it is peaceful, and perhaps that’s about it.