The hours move away,
as sand through my fingers,
searching for oasis,
in a deserted mind,
in my faint and trivial question,
to the remains of the day..
The night passes by,
some wandering soul in search of home,
Somewhere the stars are hidden,
in the reflection of tomorrow’s eyes,
as I hastily search,
for the remains of the day..
Somewhere the battle rages on for peace,
Somewhere the clock has struck,
Someone’s final moment,
It seems too daunting to me,
Why the weight of memory be so heavy
yet remain so discrete,
As I embrace my friend who forever stays,
to rejoice at the remains of the day..
We wonder whether destiny would be so kind,
In the quivering balance of motion,
We wonder if the roads will converge,
to what we seek and what seeks us,
As the little child in me,
Looks for the remains of the day..
The painter completes the picture,
where the wind caresses the ocean,
the sun bids the horizon goodbye,
something from the past stirs my soul,
As I reach for the remains of the day..
– Atiyo Banerjee, a poem which reflects my contemplative attitude in the late hours of night where soliloquies are a common phenomena
Atsoulsearch 