Swan Song

A blank white screen, where it all began

This journey of ink, running here and there

“Couldn’t this continue? Just a little more?”

Shivering hands and a heavy heart

Ink down shy words, afraid to leave home.

Grows a yearning, to stay and not part,

Now that tomorrow, the last, has come.

In this ephemeral reality of ours

Never come easy, the hellos and goodbyes, as

Grand schemes and “destinies”, forever unravel and entwine.

Oh thank god the clock tower beseeched,

For one last time before still, and

Framed pixels you were no more.

End here and now, our pens and brushes,

Lines and strokes, a full stop waiting to extend

Eleventh hour grows now twelve, 

Vying for the times and days just around.

Eyes light up, the same ones tearing 

Nights morph into days as the countdown diminishes

Pleads of mine, Chronos, can’t you hear?

Oh won’t time wait for me? Sigh.

I give up now, reluctantly.

Now that it is here

Tomorrow, the last.

Onward ho! For to you we entrust.

May the feeds be with you!