Life's Gamble (Protagonist) Poem by Aman Saa

Of a very old story
inside an ancient narration
Though it seems the lighting is imperfect,
reality is a game and
time, a great gambler.
One day we sat side by side
in the rush of a city
For a while our destinations ran the common lane.

Playing music in rusted strings
of a long forgotten vocabulary
we crossed the street.
Perhaps in opposite directions.
Our wrists faintly stumbled.
Your eyes were speaking,
Our steps were in a flight.
a bag hanged helplessly from my arm.
You had a wrist watch
which seemed to show some old time.
You must be quite nostalgic.

Strangers, let us go a bit farther
Still then forgetting all the common languages
we cannot get dressed in indifference.
This play will end us else.
Join hands so that the departure turns void
In rain a pain makes its way and
I welcome it with all beautiful spirits mixed in me.
Behind the window pane some lost day dreams
make their last appearance
as afternoon plays its flute.
And as the rain passes away
and the sky wakes up
Gazing into the blue horizon
it seems so are we created
this is the mystery of creation
this is the moment
with an unending but winged zeal to fly
we are but wingless.

With the seeking in eyes, heart and reasoning mind
nothing was empty in you.
And there was no stepping on fulfilment too.
This love for contrasts is sacred.
Love is just a feeling, just as you cross a street child.
What is his composition, is n't a verse of limitation?
Life has been defined by you in many ways,
words and many words are meaningless in the dictionary.
Though they had, they each had their moments.
Still in the ripples of night now a returning back echoes.
Now you love to random yourself.
You are randomly yours.
And some of you is a wanderer.

Seasons have been walking through us.
These roads shall never speak of an introduction
neither a direction.
Suddenly like an unseen conjuring trick
everything changes,
or just it might be, a change is seen
that was always there.
Or that it wasn't a change itself.
An unfolding of static, ecstatic.
Inside the rush of a city,
walking with a bagful of dreams of flying
and an emptiness of being without wings
You, who crossed the street
faintly stumbling with my wrist yours
is a character just like me.
Whom, so long, I addressed as myself.
A play it is, undefined plot it is, life.
And time is a great gambler.