A Montage of Incoherent Thoughts

There was a time when I was young.
Like all of you were.
But I always missed the plot
As I was supposed to miss.
Like all of you missed.
I was different.
And so were the houses and the streets.
No, they were not mystical.
But they fit in the picture.
I was not normal
Unlike you were.
Still I lived
Without realizing this puzzling fact.
Did I appreciate the beauty of this place?
Sad that I don’t recall.
Do I appreciate now?
Well, I don’t know.
Cause things have changed.
My home still stands tall
Asking me to change its fortune.
But I don’t do anything at all.
Time and again I relinquish.
And so it suffers.

I lost my love.
Like all of you had.
But still I fail to apprehend
Which one the fact,
which one the myth?
How does it feel
when you find history pages lost in oblivion?
You can turn time upside down,
But that won’t answer your questions!
Your origin’s lost, forever.
As Gangotri is not the origin of river Ganges,
Unseen stories are all where secret lies.
But the creator forgot to include it in the scripts.
Change.
The sermon of time.
Either take it or leave it.
But week hearts don’t respond well to change.
Their futile search goes on and on and on.
As the sea of people come and pass by.
They are still stuck with their past.
Cause they need answers,
Answers that are buried in past.
But now this world mesmerizes,
With all its vehemence and splendor.
But there is a bottom line.
I’m still missing the plot.