"The wind flows on making obstacles it's lyre,
While it still learns to distinguish among the fire."

Saturday, 28 January 2012

he will never grow up..

On the verge of victory, struck by God's own fury,
For once he felt His jury perform human mimicry. 
Flowing smoothly hitherto, freezing, becoming hard,
Into a shell he succumbed with a permanent guard.

Like feathered forms trapped within an open barred cage,
Withdrawing into his tiny haven, dreaming of the big stage. 
Some search him beyond expressions, detecting wrong,
Create an illusion where he thought he always did belong.

Now corpse like inachus amongst dead leaves,
Seeking inspiration to fly beyond happy, haunting memories. 
Little kid- had never for the passing chill, but couldn't refrain,
From the occasional complain but then thought again.

It's after the sun's scorch the heavens do pour down rain,
Sometimes to wash, sometimes to cover the unjust stain. 
The entire world is never together dark
There is always a new path to embark.

The wind flows on making obstacles it's lyre,
While it still learns to distinguish amongst the fire. 

He does realise, his sacrifice, might be a blessing in disguise,
So what if he has to go through the grind,
It only enriches him with many an invaluable find. 

The caged bird, in its eyes the sky, now aimed high,
All alone, along with the cage it tried to fly,
For once, he felt a hole in his black veiled haven,
The much longed shimmering sunlight creeping in.

Short of the digitized sky, its heart let out a cry,
His jury (he realized no mimicry) applauds it's try. 

Harrowing heart hates his harrowing head,
Haunting him invaluable loss, he quiet instead.
Left to His jury and Her decision,
Captured by thy goodness, no illusion. 

So while time flowed on, he still,
Quiet moments awaiting a thrill.
Dense fog walk, the road gently emerges clear,
Reminded him to live the moment without fear. 

But he prays for the one who gifts him a smile,
Because his heart still yearns to go many a mile. 

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