Somedays when I'm young again

Someday when I am young again,
Someday while I am young by vein,
I shall hence, depart into a place of hymns,
A sacred closure, an abode where worship streams,

While I am young by vein,
I shall climb the tall palm trees by the river side,
Beholding the fairest of the maidens as the hours tide,
Hoping for the purest amongst the yet to be bride,
I shall yearn for the young at heart,
Woo the naïve; make the innocent sit for a chat,
When I see, I shall know,
Via the indicator of passion; it will show,
I am still searching; flaming the fire of my desire not to douse,
My longings are still smoking; as I keep my eyes to stay rouse,
Her eyes I can’t see,
Her sight I foresee,

While I search, I shall seek more fruitfulness still,
Beholding the sight more on a hill,
The views of landscapes and portraits may give me thrill,
The wonders of God, in such a mirror as precious,
Exploring His creation makes my quest adventurous,
Till I meet the one destined to put my search to nib,
The personage of my lost and found rib,

Our customs, religions, cultures, families and laws,
If they’ll say “it is abomination and we’ll be the first to make flaws”,
If they’ll say “it isn’t always all that was meant to be must be and can be”,
Our need is the honey, so we must follow the bee,
We shall elope far into one of those abandoned lands,
Clear a forest; build a hut with our bear hands,
We shall birth generations and start a new clan,
Begin our history after the fixing of our leafy pan,

If our successors inquire of our past,
We shall say of our clan barely we were last,
We shall say; “speak no more of our history,
We’ve become allergic to our lack of victory”,
Albeit, we did reconciled our fate,
Went in search of our homeland,
The path we took made us our bait,
We couldn’t change a time that has no hand.

Someday, when I am young again,
All the things I once did to vain,
I shall fix and make work for everything’s plane,
Be generous as much as I can be,
Offer my back to them that beat me,
Have my foes treated to a tea,
Tread on rocky places leaving traces,
Cause smiles on dry frowning faces,
Make dimples for soft ebony babies,

Someday while I am young by vein,
What a wish! I can’t be young again,
Time has passed,
Our vehicles has soon crashed,
Death and grave newly clashed,
The hourglass has completed its functions,
To be buried or embalmed seem to be best options,
What a life! To the greyness of the old, an account of vain.

This spurs from the thoughts of he that won in life and lost in love.
Writer:
O’ Lover boy, where is now thy mistress that you’ve hidden honorably in thy heart? Is she not those bones we now see decaying by the inflation of warms and the investment of time effects.
Speak! Let the dead lift your curse and the living plead your course.
May the dead always mourn the dead and the living lament over their heavy souls!

WRITER BY:
Nameless Calvary