The Paradise of Strangers

The darkest hours of December had a story to tell;

When in the cold, bitter, harshness of realization I lay,

For then upon the frozen graves of my deepest affection, I fell.



In the blinding darkness, crawled, cried, craved, each day,

Or so it seemed; for when in knowing someone well, you un-know the rest,

And so, I who once looked upon the world with a smile, now does little recognize my own way.



A sister, a mother, a dad, a brother, and yet like a teacher you put me to test;

A scale, a unit, some figures and then math, all you mentioned like an investor,

We had a story to make, a fairy tale of faith, and hence I made no protest.



Should have known in this being we had, I was not a benefactor;

Soon my fairies and angels took flight into the air,

And to stay away from these exploding emotions, I took the detonator.



Now in this ringing silence, I hear a sound distinctly fair;

Unknown, unheard, yet soothingly so, to stop me groping in vain,

In the presence of the new one, life, it seemed, I could bear.



There seemed to be no more pain,

This one that came, made a paradise of my world.

He commanded – Let there be light!

And there sprung morning from night.