The hour weeps in grains,
Each second, time drips—
Drips through its nonstop fingers.
Time weaves threads,
frail and weak,
Each thread a loop
that ends where it began.
There were still
letters unread,
Hands never held.
As time passes by,
I wail, I weep
For what I could have done—
if only I were alive
a few minutes more.
I wonder if stars mourn
when they fall;
If the soul is a ripple,
does it ever find
its way back to the sea?
A bird lands on the ledge,
listens to a melody
it understands not—
notes made of grief.
It reads the letter I never sent,
and wonders in awe,
yet does not know
the letters change
each time they’re read.
The trees—a silent witness—
stood by me for years.
Each time they saw my tears,
they swayed, perhaps
from the wind, perhaps
from the weight of my heart.
But do they know
they shall not
see me anymore?
Perhaps my soul has left the body,
seeking another form—
yet carrying behind
its burden and sorrow.
Why not?
Let me survive
a few minutes more.
But now I see—oh,
of all these years I waited,
achieved nothing
but this moment—
before which
I may bid adieu.
I may say goodbye.
And not all are given
the grace of light
to bury their sins
before they die.
About S.Sudarshan
Sudarshan is a 14-year-old poet deeply inspired by classical and romantic music, nature, and cinema. His writing often explores emotional depth and philosophical themes, blending vivid imagery with subtle reflection. A passionate young voice, he hopes to share his work widely and connect with others through the power of words.
Website: https://gabriellev.art
Get featured on the blog. Submit your work today!