THE CRY

A blissful sadness clouds my head
And a numb freedom is what I dread.
I, here, am in a spontaneous trance
I, here, am waiting for my chance.
Is it I preaching myself ?
Is it I yelling for help ?
What have I to loose or gain,
Is it life, I disdain?
Agile thoughts grace my mind,
Forgotten glories I try to bind.
A blissful sadness clouds my soul,
Trembles up on an unknown knoll,
I, here, am covering my bane,
I, here, am in a continuous pain.
                   
                                                                     ©  Zinnia Mitra