When I was young, there was no pain,

The only pain was to complain.

When I was young, I did not care,

Just as long as my love was there.

When I was young, my life was great.

But I was there a bit too late.

A bit too late to know life was,

being young and having no flaws.

A bit too late to celebrate,

What I had then was called my fate.

Now it’s different, weather is cold,

I turned into a man that’s old.

The spring has passed, summer is gone,

Autumn at rest, winter is on.

I am too old and know it’s gone.

It is too dark to hope for dawn.

Now I know that a part of life,

It is old age and lives with strife.

Now I know that my life is not,

The perfect plan when I had thought.

The life is not the silken dress,

Unmarked from flaws, full of success.

My life is just a song I sing,

It is winter chasing the spring.

It is sorrow, it is laughter,

It is hope for morning after.

My life is just a long poem,

Had a young star; none would know him.

The life is just a shooting star,

It is so bright but can’t go far.

Blink your eyes; it’s all be gone,

I played this game like a faceless pawn.

I played so well; somehow, I lost.

You don’t want me to count my cost.

My life is like a field of dream,

Or maybe like a moonlit stream.

My life is like a drop of dew,

Waiting the Sun to say adieu.

My life is like the dew at dawn,

The sun will kiss; it will be gone.

My life is not to be just young,

It is okay to be unsung.

My life is like the morning breeze,

It can bring storms or bring you ease.

You are hoping for one more dream,

That wakes you up in golden gleam.

The life is like a candle’s flame,

It lights up love or burns to blame.

The games are on, and the moves are fast.

I do not know how long they last.

For some, it’s short; for some, it’s long.

Go have more fun; it is not wrong.

Remember now, it might get late,

Go play your move before checkmate.

10/2/2019

Haloo

Note: The painting is called “A reminder”; it’s acrylic on wood.

Note: This style of poetry is called “Masnavi”; it is the spiritual couplets. This particular masnavi consists of eight syllables in each line. Poetrysoup has a great explanation and example of this form of poetry.