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There’s rejoice
Brought to stage
Eighteen years of waiting
This damned sixth sense
Could not prevent
The discomfort you meant
All those who came before
And saw that purposeful musical
Of the year two thousand and one
May have received the message
So explicitly brought to stage
Days have come and gone, dawn to dusk
So many stories of duty and do or die
One have said farewell, tired the eye,
Things turned into dust
Come what may, we’re still astray
Not sorting any resolve, either way
Riverbed waits to become our bed
As in some now old musical, sad
Like all things beautiful
Months turned into years
Decades waiting for a story
Told by so many others, blessed
If you really know how grateful
And relieved to see you benectided
From one’s inertia,
From one’s unsettledness
Believe wounds were not inflicted
Although indeed others have suffered
And one’s has turned into a worst version
Every day one receives what’s have been given
There’s rejoice
In hearing a story
Becoming history.
May you accomplish one’s dreams
One that could not find his means.
