In my own home, a trace I seek,
A sign of self, though whispers speak.
The world within my shattered heart,
A landscape lost, torn far apart.
In my own home, the quest remains,
To find the echoes of my pains.
Those who found their destined place,
Fortune's smile upon their face.
My comrades, foes, a bitter sting,
Would I had listened, to what they sing.
The paths I chose, now lost to me,
Where did they lead, eternally?
I seek, I search, the broken space,
Within my heart, my dwelling place.
In my own home, the trace to find,
A shattered self, left far behind.
Society, a Lanka vast and grim,
Traditions bind, at every whim.
The world's a wind, a shifting guise,
We, fragile straws beneath the skies.
False faces worn, a hollow shell,
The heart bereft, no stories tell.
Amongst the crowd, I seek the true,
The loyal love, in all I do.
The world within, my heart's despair,
I seek a solace, to repair.
In my own home, the sign to find,
The shattered remnants of my mind.
In my own home, the trace I crave,
Within the soul, beyond the grave.
|
