Shades of Bitterness (part 1)

Last night I had a dream.
In what I thought was unreal.
I saw the two of us walking.
Making things look surreal.
We saw the cloud gathering,
pondered on the meaning.
We got to a path with 2 dividing.
We could only see by choosing.
One of us chose to be the lead.
The other chose to believe.

There was a long road in sight.
Yet we walked without fright.
As we got closer to the hill,
The shades of bitterness swirled in.
Who we were and what we did,
They asked impatiently.
I spoke first confidently.
Saying: love knew no boundary.

Laughing thunderously at me,
One shade walked to me by an inch.
Prying into my soul diffidently,
Said: ‘love is pain or nothing’.
I held the hand of the lead:
the voice of reason.
Behold and lo, these were his saying:
Life is but a journey.
The moment you embark in it,
You visit the world of infinity.

The curves may be deeper.
The hills may grow higher.
The thunders will strike louder.
The road may be longer.
Yet, if love holds to the sour,
Then it loses precious savour.


Then came the shade of guilt,
Pointing at me, spoke, saying:
'You had sold more for nothing,
you had spoken more than listening,
You had believed more in flattering,
Gave the bread, you are starving.’
When the finger dropped finally,
I could see nothing but fear.


Last night I had a dream.
I beheld my friend speaking ill,
Of what I did that was mean.
It was a sight to see, indeed.
Friendship bore one meaning.
It was about giving and not taking.
I was there awe-struck and smiling,
Startled at the misunderstanding,
Feelings of unfulfilled promises,
Crawled into my mind like viruses-
Attacking every inch of my being.

The shades of bitterness stepped in.
Eyes covered in tears,
I did not see.
The shades stood beside me.
‘You love too quickly for no reason.
Towards men yea must deal wisely.
The heart was made for many things.
And friendship is one on the list.
To trust a man, one is at risk,
of becoming wretched endlessly.
For the mouth speaks loudly,
While the heart stays fast asleep.
To hold tight a hand so wobbly,
Even with a tight grip is chancy.’

Then I remembered that day,
There was loneliness and pain.
And not a friend took them away.

By comfort I.