The Path by Osama Shammary Sep04


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The Path by Osama Shammary

The old man was always there upon the path

The people stood bewildered guessing at his thoughts

It seemed that there he always remained

Staring silently at the Almanac

His demeanour never changed except at the sight of young

whose brimming energy left marks on the stones.


Years passed and people went away, he always remained –

The young grew old, the old died but he kept counting the stones

Still there at the crossroads on his moss-covered path

Where he was reflecting on his thoughts

Or so it seemed to the young

Where he sat ans stuck to a tree was his Almanac


So the stories passed about the man on the path

Staring at the now almost grass-covered stones

And there trying to get his attention were the young

Passing by every so often to compare their jokes from the Almanac

And as he on the path remained

Only God himself knew his thoughts.


Nobody knew if he always stayed on the path

Or for how long will he count the stones

From child to child varied the thoughts

About how such a man could have an Almanac?

Little things pleased the minds of the young

And this was how it always remained


And so the situation stayed on the path

For ever subtly counting stones.

Endlessly reading the Almanac –

He was ignored by the young,

So he will always remain:

Or so everyone thought


Until that one day on the path

When his tear clattered on the Almanac

And his body fell on the stones;

There gawped the surprised young

Looking where the vault of memories and thoughts

Rested on the stones and forever remained.