I am –
A vagrant in the temple of thought
I worship my aged days
Hope my ways will be shuffled
By kindness and humility of my heart.
I seek a lost truth,
But found thorns…
I am drunk in my meditations
Of life’s long awakening.
Sun and moon pass by my side
Still, I am a young rascal
Albeit, growth keeps crossing my path.
I am not made of gold nor silver,
I am, but a moulded sediment.
I call my days a firewood
Slowly engulfed by the romance of flame
Blending with the breeze
In this monotonous journey of life.
My head keeps sailing
In the unreached river of change
I keep growing with the torns and twines
Which is entangled by screeching symphonies.
I am invincible to my belief
Though, touched with my reflection.
I miss those days of the rocking horse;
I miss my childhood;
I miss my talons
That pierced my preys…
Though I feel the touch
Of the corporeal aspect
Of the journey called life,
Yet; I still know how to rock… and roll.
Natur’s Pictur N’quill.