Walking down an empty street

I walk down an empty street,

Just guided by my feet,

My shirt torn at the shoulder,

My head feels like a boulder,

I won't grow young but just grow older,

I begin to wonder,

Why I still haven't told her,

Looking down my vision gets blurry,

Tears roll down my cheek in a hurry,

Thoughts of you I cannot bury,

Without you I'm incomplete,

I can hardly stand on my feet,

When you're near I feel a bit stronger,

How I wish you could have stayed for a little longer,

Promises I have made and promises I have to keep,

As I walk down this empty street.

Life is a barren desert,

I walk thru the sands of time,

Never know what I am here for,

All I need is a simple sign,

A simple clue, a point in the right direction,

A little help in this test of time,

There is no helping hand to guide me,

Only a single set of footprints left behind,

This is my quest to find the answers,

A simple yes or no will suffice,

The monotony of the desert seeps in,

The soft wind whistling in the night,

I hear a beacon from the forest,

A shout from the green sea,

Have I been in this desert too long?

Will I ever break free?

You mean the world to me

I wish that you could see,

You mean the world to me,

And I'll do anything for you

They say that we're just friends,

How long can I pretend?

And hide the person I really want to be,

You share your agonies,

But it won't take much time you see,

To heal and fade your scars away,

I haven't thought this through,

But there's only one thing left to do,

Just say the words that i need to say,

All that I want to do,

Is spend some time with you,

And just hope that it never ends,

I merely stand in line,

Waiting for my turn,

Waiting to get something back,

Something in return,

I'll always be here,

Standing next to you,

I'll always be near,

Waiting to walk with you.

Fear

The night crept onto the evening sky,

Nocturnal beings lay awake,

In the darkness was heard a cry,

A bone chilling shake,

The ghouls had risen and the ghosts were driven,

Out from their mangled graves,

Through the forest walked a young boy,

A simple and hardworking knave,

The wind whistled through the leaves,

And in the chill he shuddered,

He drew a blanket over his shoulders,

And god’s name he muttered,

The spirits watched him from the trees,

And drew an evil grin,

The boy froze in his path,

Amidst the confusing din,

He felt something move behind him,

He felt it, he was sure,

An eerie silence engulfed him,

He could not take it anymore,

He ran through the dense forest,

Until he reached a clearing,

He feared the spirits above him,

Which sat in the trees jeering,

He yelled at the unseen beings,

In attempt to scare them away,

But fruitful were never to be his efforts,

They were here to stay,

The spirits began to descend,

He heard a flutter of wings,

The boy could not comprehend,

What was happening around him,

The chill in the air pinched his cheeks,

And he turned pale and white,

Slowly his feeble frame was lifted,

He could not hold back his fright,

He tried to stay rooted to the ground,

Helplessly he fought,

The more he tried the more he choked,

His veins started to close and clot,

He feared for his life,

He wished he was dreaming,

He wished for it to be just a nightmare,

From which he would wake up, screaming,

Suddenly he fell,

Crashing to the ground,

He picked himself up,

And then he looked around,

He didn’t remember how he got there,

He did not understand,

His feet began to fail him,

He could hardly stand,

Shrugging his shoulders,

He slowly walked away,

But deep within him was etched a memory,

Forever here to stay.

Bits and pieces of me lie scattered on the ground,

A part of me undiscovered, a part of me not found,

Reminders of who I am and memories of who I was,

The crusader of a lost cause,

A part of me still remains unfinished,

A part of me diminished,

Like a plain piece of parchment paper, thirsty for a drop of ink,

Like a philosopher looking for the missing link,

I have yet to discover my true identity,

Hidden beneath many masks,

I have yet to gain certainty,

Of my real tasks,

In my world there are no limits,

No barriers, no edges,

For one who is governed by limits,

Is incapable of urges,

Urges to achieve and urges to survive,

Incapable of life, unable to revive,

The free wandering self he was once,

The all conquering king he was once.

The sun rises from behind the mountain tops,

Not a soul stirs, wrapped in the coils of sleep,

And at a distance passes a young boy,

With his flock of sheep,

Taking them to the meadows,

Where the grass is green,

Taking them to the meadows,

Where life is so serene,

Walking across the bridge, walking across the river,

Walking to the meadows, where the grasses quiver,

No he doesn’t walk alone, alone with his sheep,

He has his companions in the wind, the land, the trees,

He tethers the sheep with a rope,

He tethers them to the ground,

And gets lost in his dreams,

In his sleep so sound,

The sun sets as the wind blows over the mountain tops,

Rocking the grass to sleep,

And in the distance returns the boy with his flock of sheep.

For ages a story has been told,

Of a spirit that stood bold,

A tempest had gathered in the sky,

The clouds let out a bellow-a deafening war cry,

The winds blew, thrashing,

Thunder came forth, flashing,

Amidst the destruction and debris,

Lay a lone wolf trapped under a tree,

In agony the poor wolf cried,

In agony the poor wolf tried,

 The more he tried, the more it hurt,

Pain ran through his body in jolts and spurts,

The wolf summoned up all his might,

He wouldn’t let go without a fight,

It was a long time before the storm receded,

But his will stood undefeated,

A day came when he almost gave up,

But he believed and picked himself up,

Tough he had been crushed by pain,

He vowed to rise up once again,

For ages a story has been told,

Of a spirit, oh! So bold.

Destiny



Destiny has thrown at me,

From time immemorial, to eternity,

Scented candles and brickbats,

A sack full of good and a heap full of bad,

Twists and turns have defined the way,

Dimly lit roads and dusty days,

Scenes of destruction and rusty haze,

Weeks of sorrow in this endless maze,

Desolate paths and empty roads,

Have given me seasons of empty woes,

All I want to ask, my friend,

Have I nothing left to defend?

I never knew how hard it is to be,

Someone you never wanted be,

I want to escape these shackles,

And break free,

Choose my own path,

My own destiny.

The flower's story

In the wide fields of grass,

Where only grass grew as far vision would last,

Stood proudly in the light winds of spring,

A flower, glistening,

It had traveled a long way,

As a seed in a bale of hay,

Dropped by a solitary traveler,

Who, had forgotten to travel lighter,

The flower stood emitting his fragrance,

A light waft, like vanilla essence,

For miles and miles there was no other,

None to compete, none to smother

In his glorious fragrance,

A light waft, like vanilla essence

One sunny day, in the middle of summer,

As the wind blew and let out a murmur,

The flower looked around to see,

How far his kingdom stretched in glee,

Only to come upon a young sapling,

Coming out of the earth, grappling,

“Hello!” said the young one,

Cheerfully and full of fun,

“Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

With a tone so happy and gay,

And as the last words had been spoken,

The young bud began to open,

The poor old flower stood gaping,

Not being able to perceive what was happening,

Bright colors of yellow and green,

And a smell so serene

But still the flower stood frowning,

As his pride was drowning,

Now he wasn’t alone to stand,

Now he had to share his rightful land,

Suppressed by the young flower’s innocent glory,

Thoughts and plots he conjured, so gory,

He schemed to not stop until the young one was finished,

The flower turned to a monster, bloodthirsty and famished,

The monster’s conscience, hidden inside,

Silenced the monster, oh yes, it defied,

Seeing what it had become,

With sadness was the flower overcome,

He flooded with emotions and with guilt,

Depressed, he began to wilt,

Seeing his only companion weep,

The young flower decided to keep,

His old friend from giving up,

To help him perceive his cup,

Half full and not half empty,

And teach him to live in plenty.

it's been a 100 miles since i left home,

leaving the streets i used to roam,

i venture into this great unknown,

knowing that I'm not alone,

i walk thru a city of bright black lights,

reminiscing of the day i took my first flight,

i have come a long way since i departed,

a 100 miles away from where all this started,

in times of great hardness and of fear,

and all the times i wished you were here,

thru all the pain that we endured,

thru all the sickness suffered and cured,

you taught me the most rudimentary virtue in life,

whether it be sickness or strife,

that when time does its calling only a few step forward,

those left behind are the greatest cowards,

its been a 100 miles since i left home,

and somehow i know,

that wherever i go,

you'll be the one to guide me back home.

Fight

Through the darkness cometh a ray of light,

Putting the willing up to the fight,

Like a stone’s etching on a boulder,

Time will surely make it fainter,

Through the treacherous field of battle,

Blood drenches the green grass where once roamed cattle,

Why is there bloodshed and why is there killing,

As death approaches those who are willing,

Through icy seas and deafening thunder,

Warriors charter the unknown yonder,

Fighting till their last breath is drawn,

In attempt to make their loved ones feel safe and less forlorn.