Stepping Forward

Finally stepped out of the fortress to enter the grounds,
it wasn't easy to march forward with so many hounds,
to tackle them dangers, needed a lot of courage,
Me and energy after all these years had come out of age.

Ignominy of being the one who left the place standing,
many were behind him to punish and do his branding,
Nevertheless with the support of the soul and the heart,
marked every step with faith he had restored and again crafted the start,

Failure, success, boundaries or imaginary staircase to the clouds,
all were built upon the power of what he held at his will and was just proud,
knocking at every door, every corner in search for the hand,
all he could find was nothing and the color of his surroundings were bland ,

Deemed to rise, and destined to succeed, was not a giver,
every moment of horror and cold he fought and did not shiver,
every single glory he leapt on to and was not the coward,
it was the his step forward and the risk that was forever honored.

‘Bag-aged’

You play in the park under the sun,

All you think about is carrying the fun,

Far away the flight catches you,

Inside those are demons with fired caves.

Laughter falls under the deepest sin,

And you will die leaving the life’s skin,

Grave beneath the shadow lies of those,

We trusted and for those we played with our lives.

Help me understand the substance of truth,

No one can run up the hill to that brute,

For which far away he threw his baggage,

There was nothing left but an uncalled handle

Wonder lusted years, glory moments,

Washed away under the seas currents,

For whom you died for never felt the hunger,

For which you have not pulled down your mighty thunder.

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.......