The shades of grey and the tinges of gold –no more do I see
any.
The charm encircling me no more; no more should I search for
it either.
The magic is there, better I conceal it; and crush the
aureole –for that’s not supposed to happen.
And that shouldn’t happen; for this isn’t my story.
Change the track and switch the path;
However though, neither would help.
Remember I will, always; somewhere on this way, I got lost –and
never was found.
So much of mist, so much of haze;
–So much of uncertainty, so much of nothing.
In the wrong time, in the wrong circle; I stand, in the
middle of nowhere.
Step back and retrieve, I should; for this is not my story.
