• windingpaths 11w


    A ship that sailed from
    one shore to another
    has seen sunsets and sunrises
    more than any of us.
    Which storm damaged
    her and which rain
    washed her again and again,
    only she knows and nobody else.
    A bird looking for its
    already destroyed nest
    goes where afterwards
    no one knows, not even her.
    What goes unnoticed is
    in our unfortunate presence
    but what we see, if that faces the wall,
    then it is not in our absence but ignorance.
    The sky never tells what
    the colour she unfolds next,
    how many visitors she had
    from native and foreign lands.
    What she tells us is what we see
    and again, a lot went
    unnoticed to grieve, I guess.
    No one but a prisoner
    has escaped from the world,
    from the buildings, from the roads.
    He eats, sleeps, lives like a dead man,
    perhaps, now he
    knows more about
    the visitors of the sky
    than any of us.


    @writersnetwork thank you for reading ��✨

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