by Satyam Pati
Threaded dreams weave a tapestry of memories,
Inside a home of glass, in the land of the entranced,
Old men ask the unborn for a chance,
To hold on to their shards, even if cuts the glass
Love entwines with despondence, in the tapestry of memories,
Inside that home of glass, in the land of the entranced,
The unborn ask fate, but for one chance,
To hold on to their dreams, even if disappear they in a flash
Trust begs of faith, in the tapestry of memories,
Inside that home of glass, in the land of the entranced,
Fate asks of men, but for a second chance,
To hold on to its creation, even if doomed it is right from the start
The child argues with the future, as they knit that tapestry,
Inside that home of glass, in the land of the entranced,
Time asks of fate, but for a last chance,
To flow in its free will, even if swing it will right back
Nostalgia sings its fading song, as the tapestry unwinds,
Inside that home of glass, in the land of the entranced,
Darkness asks of time, “Can you build me chance?”
So I may see light one last time, even if loves me she not
