Witness

I sat there watching Without eyelids batting Timeless eternal witness My boy is out there A tot running up and down The difficult stairs of dream and wake Falling hither and thither His punched nose bleeding Bruised all over everywhere Tears flowing down his cheeks Screaming, hollering Ascending, descending Rolling in dirt, at times Thumping his chest Growling like an African ape Can anyone describe his grief The escapades of his ego That sulks refusing to accept, forego Fighting with the monsters of a nightmare Called life by everyone everywhere? The poor boy fighting day and night Gruesome battles without respite Yet, he would return when tired outright To my lap white as it is Ever inviting, without a blemish I sat there waiting for him to arrive Repose and forget his worries Dissolve and vanish into my vastness Like thundering lightnings that die into the skies I sat there a whiteness unbound Silence! the boy is asleep sound The poor thing is no more twain Once again, before the spasm begins in the morn again