BROODING IN THE TEMPLE OF THOUGHT

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. 

Yet –

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. 

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