Mirage

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Across the broken boulevards of forgotten promises,

A figure stands-

An incomprehensible shadow of no one.

The shadow recedes like the horizon-

But its presence much more honest.

The figure beckons for the traveler at the end of a dark tunnel-

A mirage though it may be, it cannot be a lie.

Empty promises never were so life-like;

Flying dreams were.

"Should I go? I must live but leave not..."

The end of the tunnel comes closer-

The figure grows in size-

A soft breeze upon the forehead makes him breathe.

The figure is lost- his life regained- the seventh heaven.

The traveler never was, the figure will forever be:

For hope was it that led us so far,

And hope will it be that will lead us farthest.

The journey is yet to begin--

Into those unknown wonderlands

Which poets have written a world about, but

None had ever seen.