Thursday, July 21, 2011

Fools Gold

The inner feelings of a funny man,
running desires of virtual dream land
blindly following the sandstones of that desert
He could feel the orange sky overhead.

While they wondered he could imagine all the fabrics beneath him,

slowly and slowly running down that stream,
blood was so pure he could feel it reach the shore,
Gushing through the last hole of his body through a benign force.

thrived for that last breath of the air, 

freedom was all he could imagine in that air, 
all he could see in the sky was that image, 
blindly following the figure of the unfolded sinner.

Desperately seeking the advice of the deep beneath the unrest,

hide himself from the creepy crawlies in that shady forest.
Met a man who taught him to fight,
and the man joined the forces to ward off his plight

trained with the rest of them to fight,

came out with brave laurels and worthy sights,
got appointed as the leader of the troop,
with this early rise he marched forward for the route.

Shinning down that glory road of the jubilant movement,

we march towards that road to freedom,
follow me soldiers ill lead you to glory,
as the sun shone there was no one to stop them getting victory.

Wonders and surprises that carried there way,

the prizes and the loots they merried away,
were not enough for the sole souls of the dead bearers,
there wasnt a single one who felt his soul lighter,

The captain asked his men is anything left,

they were all so greedy that wanted one more theft,
the tavern they looted was nothing mere than a rotten ,
there find was just some books and leaves which carried a curse.

He lost men for every road they travelled,

it was the work of the curse that made every stone a gravel,
carried the dead soul on his burden,
without food and water every step seemed a hurdle.

Reached the end of the route and found that old man with his flute,

Said the old man with utmost wisdom,
cut loose the greed and the curse would be freed,
blinded by the greedy motivation, he found it a hard inspiration.

With the blow of the air in the flute,

the magical old man, brought back the miserable past of the destitute brute,
realised the effect of the events , the loner , the wanderer,
gave back the loot and set himself free from the greedy truth.

2 comments:

ananya garg said...

takes you to a whole different world!
you could be a great story teller as well.
whatever this is inspired from...must have been a hell of a journey!

Sonal Rawat said...

A beautiful thought!