When I failed to think of myself—

My life's trembling,

like gun shots piercing,

through the empty house.

With half-lost and bewildered,

I was like warped tin and broken stone,

drawn to the edge of a cliff.

It was when I,

thought I was born,

In pain, in despair,

as my body fed in, 

fear of silence.

I saw a streak of hope,

unfolding right before me,

After all these years,

little by little, 

 I keep going further ahead,

 the brighter side, as if,

the Sun coming up,

here right behind me.

My life's turning to wait,

 for me to catch up,

that I had deeply longed for,

each passing day