Many lives

I have already lived many lives,

many new beginnings and

just as many ends.

I am reborn many a times; each

afresh,

pulsating,

renewed,

from the old ashes.

Every beginning,

a birth, a whole new cycle;

every end,

a death, a silence of promises beyond.

All that I carry are the

remnants of a handful of moist memories

like a dry, old, forlorn leaf,

kept inside the pages of a book for ages,

and now all it contains,

is a colorless skeleton presence.

I keep that leaf

in between the lines of my poem,

among the layers of my smooth melodies,

hoping,

some or may be just one of you

someday,

Perhaps,

would recognize its long forgotten, lost color

and relate.