I had written this poem on
1st March 1994. I’ve forgotten why I wrote it or because of whom-- but I remember being very hurt and despondent when I did. Today I opened my poetry book (have been writing since 1992) and read it. I’m amazed that I still feel the same way and it makes so much sense ,even after all these years. Sorry, if it is depressing.. It matches my current mood.
Looking ahead into the future,
A void stares back,
Occasionally decorated by specks,
Of people who seem to matter,
Whom you seem to need,
Till they let you down.
Then you are back to the beginning,
Where the void still stares back,
Suspended, devoid, untouched by time,
Unaffected by the specks,
Now long forgotten.
Not even a trace of memory remains,
All that exists,
Is the void,
Still staring back.