34. Stars

The starry skies told me a tale
Of a traveller who had lost his way.
The day was dark.
The summer was cold.
With torn shoes, he walked in search of his home.

The leaves were singing,
A song of melancholy.
The wind was whispering,
A word of caution.
And at a distance,
A painful cry penetrated the silent adobe.

However, the traveller was not the only wanderer,
Who had lost his way.
There was yet another.
The night was dense.
The winter was raw.
With bare feet, the other too walked in search of his home.

The leaves were dancing,
On a song of glee.
The wind was whispering,
A word of hope.
And at a distance,
A joyful cry penetrated the silent adobe.

The traveller asked his companion,
'No lonely tears, no loss of faith.
My friend, on the same deserted path our lives collide.
Yet I see darkness, you see the light at the end of it.
Tell me, why the mist has only blinded me?'

The wanderer smiled and said,
'The darkest nights contain the brightest stars—
You forgot this saying, didn't you?'