As if it were a dream, I couldn’t help but lean,
on the very fact that I’ve just come,
to the crossroads of my little journey;
to cross the bridge…
between my want and my need,
questioned by the very roots of my creed.
As I sit here in silence,
I go through these moments of infinitesimal existence:
These sparks that I see soaring high, coming down, and dying away,
these sparks of temporary pain;
these sparks of spurious happiness;
these sparks of glorified agony;
these sparks of counterfeited radiance;
in these fireworks, called life.
All those tears that you shed,
for all those things you wanted, but did not get.
For all those people, whom you refused to live without,
who just reside now in your dreams, so loud.
For all those colorful dreams which have turned gray;
For all those solid smiles which have melted away.
For all the living memories, which are now ash,
and for all those gruesome wounds of happiness… Oh! Is that just a rash?
…are just sparks,
which die as soon as they are born!
Because there is a dawn after this night, isn’t that strange?
For victory is near, so within range,
and because nothing is permanent, not even change…!