Unfinished

There’s a sadness
That engulfs them from within
An ache for a home
A desire to belong
A longing for things
They have never known
An unforgotten hope
Draped in illusions forgone
If the winds go north
They wish to become the stars
If the stars be shy
They dream to be the light
For it knows to cease the dark
If the light turns blue
They’ll hold it in their palms
Give it a new canvas
And paint it in colours
Those before them had only dreamt of
But if the light refuses to be held
They’ll become the wind itself
Usher in stories that are yet to be written
And songs of a Mockingjay
Of peace without war
Of love without hate
Of a time yet to come
Of a time taking shape
They are the dreamers
Who fly a little too close to the sky
Those who chase horizons
That seem a little too out of reach
They exist in you
And they exist in me
At times behind veils
Contained and curtailed
Flickering up like strangers
That keep finding us
From time to time
In crowded bus stops
On lazy afternoons
Quietly sipping coffee
Behind windows newly stained

~ Manasi Varwandkar

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