When suddenly the meaning of pursuit is lost;
The grip of getting ahead is taken off
Time is still, with little duties done regularly most....
Not needing mind space or much thought
As if into automation been pushed
The push button of your mind ;
Makes you walk to find space and time
At the quay side
As thoughts reside;
Night silently walks to occupy its place.....
Empty boats of lost dreams tease you as it moves
Moves and hits each other,
in the stagnant waters
Perhaps creating ripples too......
unoccupied, viewed preoccupied
As the peace of restful distant horizon
Adds a numb chillness to the listless bones
Perhaps making new resolution for the morrow noons.