In this world....

He sat pondering, if things would've been different, "how things would've been different" had he overcome that one last obstacle. The one that separates men from the boys, winners from the runners. Now all he could see across the table was a battered soul like his own, jaded by the familiar journey. He reflects upon the fact that its a voyage everyone has to go through. Yet, a few of them manage to enjoy the journey itself. He questions why he couldn't be like those happy people and sees the question mirrored in the eyes looking at him from across the table.

He knew those eyes, had seen, been seen by them and memorized each minute detail of those eyes which looked worn out beyond their age. He silently soaked up the knowledge of what they had gone through, what they were going through. Yet, not a word had been spoken, not since they parted ways fifteen years ago. Almost half their life they'd been away, yet the memories of the other half continued to haunt them. Bittersweet memories which he'd vigilantly stomped upon each time they started showing life, now overwhelmed him.

"He hadn't fail. Not according to the people that mattered", he kept telling himself. By all accounts, he'd been quite successful, respected, admired perhaps even envied by many. Yet, he couldn't but give in to the feeling that he'd failed somewhere, sometime. Looking up, he saw
tears welling up in the eyes. He couldn't decide if they were the tears of relief when two castaways meet in the middle of nowhere or if they were the tears of anger for having left them behind. After all in the earlier stretch of this journey, they were companions, companions who understood each other better than themselves.

He understood the pain in those eyes but knew little of the details. They spoke of the bad marriage, scavenging relatives, uncaring partners and endless seas of the loneliness. They longed for a time in the past when it wasn't so bad. He shudders as he thinks of his lonely sojourn in distant lands. He gathers the courage to speak at last, but words dry up in his throat. He wonders if he could atone for the cowardice of the past, if 'late' is really better than never and if having loved and lost is really better than never having loved at all. There he sits and tries for one last time, turning back time, trying to vomit the words he knew he couldn't bring himself to speak fifteen years ago.

Sad Lisa

She hangs her head and cries in my shirt.
She must be hurt very badly.
Tell me what's making you sadly?
Open your door - don't hide in the dark.
You're lost in the dark - you can trust me.
'Cause you know that's how it must be.

Lisa - Lisa, sad Lisa - Lisa.

Her eyes like windows trickelin�rain
Upon the pain getting deeper.
Though my love wants to relieve her.
She walks alone from wall to wall.
Lost in her hall, she can't hear me.
Though I know she likes to be near me.

Lisa - Lisa, sad Lisa - Lisa.

She sits in a corner by the door.
There must be more I can tell her.
If she really wants me to help her.
I'll do what I can to show her the way.
And maybe one day I will free her.
Though I know no one can see her.

Lisa - Lisa, sad Lisa - Lisa.

- Cat stevens