Long time ago, a man started to run..
Didn’t know the destination or why did he begin..
The sweat on his face glistening under the sun..
Captivating like gold, thus joined another man..
Hungry and tired they found a melon..
To share or keep became the survival question..
One killed another and thought he had won..
That victory, that power, was it all for fun?
Since then men joined a journey that never ends..
Like hamster on a wheel, captivated; we run..
Image credits: Getty images©
Been to the mountains of Everest,
and grasses evergreen..
My mother’s wrinkled hands,
the prettiest sight
I’ve ever seen..
They walk around the streets,
Wearing perfume on their sleeves..
Looking to share everything but trust,
Laughing for hours but crying first..
Holding hands but shadows apart,
With bodies of stone and elastic hearts..
© Image courtesy: Fine art America
Born with lips so beautiful, but couldn’t utter a word..
Sitting for hours at the window watching the one-legged bird..
Bullied at the school for being so eccentric..
Abused by father for always being a skeptic..
On a mid summer holiday, escaping from the sun..
In grandma’s little cottage, he found a red violin..
They pushed him to the corners for his words were inapprehensible..
The more his fingers and the strings became inseparable..
A boy once running in circles for hours..
Found peace in his violin and the blooming of flowers..
They couldn’t understand him so he was segregated…
Not leaving him alone, now that his music was appreciated..
Closing all the doors behind, shutting out the universe..
All he wanted was the love he felt in singing a verse…
P.S. To all those young beautiful minds suffering from childhood Psychological disorders and the Autism spectrum.. Let’s try to stretch a hand towards them, before they lose faith in humanity and isolate themselves from a world full of opportunities.. Every child deserves to be loved and appreciated the way he is.
Image courtesy: Wandalin Strzałecki – The Violinist
On a moonlit night, listening to stories untold…
Or a warm summer morning, like melted gold..
The rusty old shoes, the same necklace of pearls..
The same old songs and her hair in perfect curls..
In the deafening peace of a snowy winter night..
The clock ticked louder, reminding of it’s might..
But everything at the sea was forever changing..
Change is life, thus the old man loved kayaking..
I run through the cold nights, barefeet..
Cheeks kissed by ice demons..
Searching every park and lake..
I see you in everything, for a moment..
Then you disappear, with the fog I exhale..
For years I tried,
in the middle of the night..
At a lonely lake…
On a summer morning..
With a cup of tea…
Looking through pictures..
Going through your books..
Smelling your shirt..
Giving away your bike..
but failed to put you