To tame the sand-clock..

whispering tunes stroke our ears,

orchards for harvest exit left..

the moon tries its best to follow us,

a journey, a duty, a distraction to regret..

the bridges bid bon-voyage,

the gorges hoped we fell through..

these uncharted routes we set foot on,

to seek the elusive xanadu...

to stay longer during the good,

to accelerate through the pains..

was the spirit that we embodied,

to put an end to our banes..

in the quest of a glorious redemption,

we ate up mile after mile..

but the halo ahead was a mirage,

as the chase proved futile..

we realized we had grown older,

and the times had become worse..

"yesterday wasn't so bad after all",

exclaimed I, in my hearse..