another time to go back

going back to the wet long nights,

to the endless lingering

and perhaps to the final days of my own life

who knows it all?

Rain drops forging patterns in the sacred pond

Dawns are still beautiful

as they give hope to meet your eyes

somewhere among that silent crowd

making their way to the temple

On a Sunday after the mass

somewhere there around the Church

Or may be on a Friday afternoon

Who knows where you are!

I have to tell you something...

that I am scared

During nights like this when my sleep's fled

and restlessly roaming somewhere there

I smell the freshly brought jasmine flowers

hear the drums and see the vermilion marks

I can feel the uneasiness of my caretakers

Oh before I got handed over

I must meet you

and tell you that

this is not what i want.