The Unfolding

A short poem which exhibit the grief that often kept inside us.

The suns are blooming in the dark sky,

the shades are spreading across the eye.

Is it the yielding that is stopping us

to move against the unfolding winds.



How can we resist the pain

which hangs over our eternal lives...



I cannot explain but resist

the throes reside deep in our eyes..

The unfolding must by some saint has to begin,

where we can shower our thoughts and surrender our pain.