I hear the prelude
Of a beautiful twist of fate
yet another chapter is written
In the book of my life-
Though tattered and torn
Holds pages of my being.
Though a part
in the parade of strangers
I happen to collapse
Into your book of life
I want to drown into the depths of your soul
Though in it only a single page I occupy
not far from now
I will be a half frogotten memory
A stained and crumpled page
Fate is strange and time is stranger
The strangest is the parade of strangers
For some pages in different books are the same
The two of us are slaves of life
Being dragged towards the grave
before our books are burnt to ashes
I want to write in yours
And you to write in mine
And yes, even scribbles will do.
Don't mistake the reasons of my invisibility
For fear of being looked at differently
they like to remain an unsolved mystery
Till then you remain
The dearest stranger I walk with
Down the road to the grave
Along the way you might know
The reason of my sleepless nights
Till the, let me be your faceless memory.
