…But there are things that can never be said aloud
or expressed in mere words, things that baffle us,
shedding doubt on the purpose of our existence
and on our final destiny as well.
When the sky is hazy with mist, not thick enough
to shroud the distant stars but heavier than the clouds,
hanging above the skyline of the cityscape,
like a muslin shawl on an urban shoulder draped,
a humid sense of emptiness engulfs my soul
as if the atoms of my being have turned
into those tiny droplets of the mist around,
flocked together but never truly one.
When the wind is tinged with the cold smell of winter,
saying, ice has begun to form on the Himalayan,
it feels as if a frost has bitten through my soul
and even angels cannot save me from the fall.
Baffled, all my strengths and virtues seem as meaningless
as my sins and weaknesses, in the final call.