Forgotten springs

Where does a straight road lead to?
The end is in its beginning,
Only unseen, it forgets itself
On its way there, through ways and means
That twist and turn past good and bad,
Through means and ends that weave
Meanings and endings
Out of everyday tears and smiles.

A black dog barks in the empty night
Lined with trees that have already shed their leaves.
A stilling wind blows, then is forgotten
As the chill creeps in unbidden from out of sight.
Unnoticed rhymes in the wheeze of a motorcycle and
The tar almost melts, darker than the darkness of the night.

There is music in the breeze
That whispers of new beginnings
Past where the street of leafless trees
Ends.
And when night darks its way to the soul
Of man looking towards the setting life;
When man feels drawn from the world whole
That teems in its many-tongued strife;
Then the music of the breeze
Will bring back memories of forgotten things;
With its discordant harmonies
It will speak of a million Springs.

--Shyam.