When I failed to think of myself—
My life's trembling,
like gun shots piercing,
through the empty house.
With half-lost and bewildered,
I was like warped tin and broken stone,
drawn to the edge of a cliff.
It was when I,
thought I was born,
In pain, in despair,
as my body fed in,
fear of silence.
I saw a streak of hope,
unfolding right before me,
After all these years,
little by little,
I keep going further ahead,
the brighter side, as if,
the Sun coming up,
here right behind me.
My life's turning to wait,
for me to catch up,
that I had deeply longed for,
each passing day