Sometimes it so happens

                                                          
Sometimes it so happens
that I grow weary of all desires and all disappointments
and get tired of all fears and all fancies

Sometimes it so happens
that I can't listen anymore to all the endless talking
and get exhausted with all modernization and all competition

Sometimes it so happens
that I lose sense of man and all his incomplete solutions
and have no track of all mental stimulation and all creative propositions

Sometimes it so happens
that there is little left in man, woman and all other dualities
and hardly any discoveries in enigmas of relationships and all other ecstasies

Sometimes it so happens
that there is not much in all philosophies and all paradoxes
and in drawing those acute observations and finite conclusions

Sometimes it so happens
there is nothing to find in grand revolutions and petty commercialization
and in lofty ideas of purposes and self proclaimed patriotism

Sometimes it so happens
that I have no spiritual connotations and moral obligations
and no meanings in my poems, like this one

Sometimes it so happens
that I write nothing but except may be
and there is no pen or paper but only thoughts afloat

Sometimes it so happens
that I just sit in this cafe and look at the rain
and wonder if all leaves will get drenched or some shall remain

Sometimes it so happens
that's just my life is all about
and it doesn't matter much to me

(Image- Cafe terrace at night by Van Gogh)