Old Age

As we grow old, a change comes to us all.
We tend to fall into the easy rhythm
Of nine-to-five life and two day weekends;
The river of life has been flowing long,
We learn to flow with it till we have shed,
Our worries and the pains, and then our dreams;
Till the day comes when we lose ourselves too
To become just like everybody else.

But there’s a voice that whispers to our heart.
As all the sand in our hour glass runs out,
As the strong strings pull the kite to earth,
Sometimes we are left with one brave gesture
Of defiance: the tale is not over yet.
The graying poet, the aged explorer,
The dreams still lurking in the dark corners
Of our fractured heart, waiting for our word.

If we are ready, the last ounce of regret
Is smashed into a million sparkling diamonds.
We fling our dark hands into the night sky
And gather the twinkling stars into our heart
Where they glow like fireflies in moonless nights.
In the twilight years we learn to dream again.
If that happens, the only light we’ll need
We carry in our untamed foolish hearts.

Diptesh Ghosh