Who am I? The answer to this
Is as long as my life at least,
That I live in and out of consciousness,
Of greed, lust and longing.
My dreams, at times of days yet to come
And at times of those gone by.
In some of them I seem happy,
While in some oddly sad.
Then, blue memories, is that me as well,
A bit of color on simple life?
I have seen them come and go, one by one
Each with its own whims and pulses,
Each with its own void of expectations.
No one was happy in the end,
No matter whatever was pledged or sacked
Something went missing every time.
And the stones, a bit of me
Sadly wiser are left behind.