the search for the right words


With heavy heart and long-held breath,
I let out the words, "I am not done yet,"
Or so I am wont to think,
For all they hear is gibberish.

I recollect some instances
Of follies old, deep regrets,
Held back, half-wrecked;
A ship unaware of its end.

The sorrowful roads run their coarse,
Quietly delivering screeching remorse
To travellers just passing by,
And rejoicers ignoring life.

But all I am is meaning,
Yet to be understood;
All I have are words,
For you to see it too.

the search for the right words
Written by Yash Raj Talan

[note to self: the search shall never end. may you still go on]

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