Almighty's Vagabond
Not too big to swallow me,
Nor too small to be shallow.
These are the souls I know,
Close to heart enough to beheart them.
Yet I feel like a stranger,
An ignored ghost,
I feel empty in the crowd I know.
It's true,
I always feel that
I'm the stranger everywhere.
Just like a ghost who's visiting its loved ones after death.
I don't belong to anyone or anywhere.
I'm just a rover,
Moving everyday, shattering my heart into pieces.
Knowing I could die at any minute from now,
Without someone who will actually cry for me,
When I mix into the soil and air.
Without someone who would remember me forever
Even if I leave this world behind in the dawn.
The ghost slowly travels to the heaven but is sent back.
In the same vein, I'm standing between the souls that I reread everytime.
There is not a place to claim me nor a person.
There is not a single soul out there
In this world to say "she is mine".
I'm just a wandering soul,
Like the ghost itself, but in flesh and blood.
Wishing upon laying in the hands of my beloved,
Just till a dawn of my last day.
Just to hold on to my dear and weep.
Not caring about how I might look when I cry or what they think.
I want a place that could be mine
So I can be myself there.
Cry there. Laugh there.
That's all I crave.
The ghost is wandering under the street lamps,
So am I, walking along with it.
The Father returned the ghost back to earth,
As punishment in his previous life.
To wander forever along with the sins of humans.
I too, am a vagabond sent by the Almighty
To visit his creation
For a little long enough to experience thorns
Full of roses and hawthorn.
I walk through the lane of sins,
Though it seems like a gateway to heaven,
Jasmine spread above my head on the arch,
Shining in the glory of night,
The sides filled with thistle that stuck to my skirt.
Just like men of earth, flawless,
Yet sinful.
The ghost follows me,
Wondering why I am too,
Walking in the streets like him.
But he doesn't know, I'm also being punished by the God.
Maybe I did something sinister too
In the life before this.
I see a crowd that I'm not part of.
They look happy, they look content.
Chirping like birds, none avoiding any.
They got the triumph in the game I lost.
A hand touched my shoulder,
Lighter than any human flesh I know.
It was the ghost, who looked at me
With questions in his eyes.
My eyes answered them even before I could open my mouth.
My eyes played a skit of my life;
I saw the reflection in his eyes.
The small crowd flitted into the brick houses,
Leaving me alone with the phantom.
My eyes watered my cheeks without my permission.
Finally feeling the belonging,
In the arms of a ghost who is longing too.
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