Utopic Illusions of a Baby

Rain drops scatter my imaginations around the blades of the windmill,

They slowly churn away the wind as they sway away under their flawless motion,

The drops trickle down the blades as a magical potion,

These small prisms spread themselves throughout the greens as a free will.

Blends under the shadow of the trees,

Those finest dried leaves those are free,

Crushed under the finest whispers of laughter,

They find themselves deep beneath the graves of thee dead.

Undone by his deeds, found a way to freedom,

Broke those chains to move him away from the boredom,

Wandered to new horizons in search for new sensations

He had a motive to fulfill his life's frustrations

Sleep deprived, rumbling, rustling walking alone in the streets,

Was a man, with no desire, desire for success,

Under the ever moving sky was his never moving head down,

Just to find those crushed leaves bringing them back to the ground.

Anonymously carried himself through the hustle of the towns

Realized beneath the shade of the happiness there were many convincing frowns

Simplified his emotions to meet the needs of the protest,

Walking down those materialistic streets was just like a test

Surreal yet it may seem, deemed as crazy by the rest,

His demeanor was as hard as a rock,

For the miles forged under his feet he had to bear many shocks

Closure, without the joy or pain, he painted his road to his identity

The final destiny, the final moment, magical

Yet it may seem, was his final frontier, yet so simple

Utopia, his elixir of life, which he kept searching for,

Happiness and sorrow kept burdening him all the way along,

Yet he found a way to move on and on and on.......