Part 38: The price of living a life of my own

Another place, another time,

another thought, that isn't mine.

Everyday amidst a million crimes, 

trapped in an invisible cell, just like a mime.

They say I should love this life on hire,

slave to life's needs, chanting 'what may I do sire'.

No voice of my own, no dreams to follow,

just playing it safe, swimming where its shallow.

What happened I wonder, to the spirit of the free man,

the quests of an adventurer, setting sail without a plan.

What happened to waking up under a different sky each day,

greeting a total stranger by the road and asking him the way.

Our worlds seem to have shrunk, we live by a box these days,

believing all that it shows, trusting all that it says.

Our thoughts now belong to those the world calls wise,

we are too scared to think, let alone act without advice.

And yet we boast of being human, the smartest of our kind,

Sitting within our cages, no better we will ever find.

And thus we choose to live the illusion of a lie,

that life was meant to be this way, why be different, why even try!

But now I am tired of being what the world wants me to be,

I will no longer ask your permissions, I will just dare to be me.

The rules I follow will be the ones that I make,

my road, my journey, my dreams I will not forsake.

So go ahead and judge me, look at me through your crooked lens,

I am kicking down those boundaries, no more sitting on the fence.

And at the end of my journey, I know I may stand alone,

Well so be it then, if that be the price of living a life of my own!

Part 37: A festival by you

A world full of lamps,

in a time full of lights.

Darkness prevails,

not even in the nights.

And yet people fail to see a brother in need,

a glass of water to the thirsty, the hungry to feed.

So today as you step out

to light those fireworks, just wait,

Open your hearts a little,

and look beyond your gates.

Reach out to your brother

share a little joy,

Make it a festival of happiness

for every girl and boy.

And in that minute you reach out.

you' ll find a moment that’s true.

A true festival of lights

celebrated by you.

Part 36:

And sometimes it gets dark,

as I hurry across those burnt fields.

Many a dreams lie shattered there around me.

My eyes moisten with crystals of salt

as my heart now feels heavier

weighed down by the chains of sorrow.

But alas! I cannot stop here,

for my journey still lies ahead

and the horizon waits for me quite eagerly.

And so I pat on Hope my humble steed once more.

And she in turn consoles me with a soft neigh,

as she gallops now with haste

towards the end of our journey.

I can feel the wind blowing in my ear once again.

But this time he doesn't seem angry like before.

He leads us to the streams of introspection.

We halted there for a while.

Hope and I had a drink,

we knew we had a long journey ahead.

After resting for the night,

we set off once again at the break of dawn.

The road seemed clearer this time,

we came upon a fork in the road,

A choice needed to be made.

the road of What I like

or the road of What I want.

The first seemed clear,

the other seemed to dissappear into foggy forest.

And yet that was the path I chose.

no logic though here prevailed.

And thus I entered through the misty foliage.

My journey I know is far from over. . .

Part 35: I am not your riddle

Do not try to solve me

I am not your riddle Old World.

Do not try to comprehend

for my words don't belong in your present

Do not try to foresee

as my future is what will build yours.

For I, though no more than a grain of sand,

am still beyond what you will ever understand.

So do not try, and not just because you shouldn't

but rather because you can't.

How? you may ask

or even Arrogant! you may call me.

But I am just the way

I was always supposed to be.

Something that you will over see,

only to regret with much remorse

when tomorrow turns into yesterday.

And it is only then

that you will stand still and ponder

why was it that you never

recognize and understand...

the puzzle, the riddle, the person that is me.

For that day, I leave you

few words from this moment.

Remember this

An hour glass

though worth a few pennies

still holds within itself

countless lifetimes

within the sands of time.

Part 34: Don't ask me to be who I am not

You liked me for what I was,

you loved me for who I am.

But I am not me by myself,

I am me because of them.

For this is how GOD meant it to be,

and I am glad for it.

Don't ask me to be someone else,

for I know not how to be anyone but me.

I need you to trust in me today,

even more than ever before.

Please...

Part 33: I am

You don t know me

for i dont know myself

i am that differant

i am that rare

that you would seem but a mere mortal before me

and I am yet but a mortal myself

But i am still differant

not because of what I am

but because of what I am evolving into

I am what I am

you cannot ignore me

I am what you call your future,

I am for I exist

You exist for I am.

Part 32: Through the fog

In flames i seek the calm of cold water,
in the outpour of a waterfall... I long for the warmth of a flame.
Cold water is what I call my past,
while my future relates more to a flame.
Night will never be too dark for me,
and niether the sun to bright in a day.
Life will never seem short,
while death will always seem close by.
In rage I seek the answers of my self,
while in peace I feel a life incomplete,
And yet I am but an ordinary man.
And I live but still an ordinary life.
Who am I is what you don t know?
who am I is unknown to me as well?
and yet I exist,
and in what they call Life,
I do more than survive,
through my collection of moments,
They call it but a Day.
A day of what life is all about,
a day which yet is lost in the moments caught within 24 hours of time.
What I write may seem,
far from what you call reason.
But then again... your life,
is no differant from what I say.
In what there is
you seek what you wish for
and in what you want
you hope for what you can't have.
Strange you are
but then,
no strange from who I am.
And thats what makes us one,
ones who are flawed by all we do and think,
ones who yet live on to believe.
What we are is wonderful!
Hope... thus they say is a gift,
and thats what we live by.
But our egos is what we like to wear each day.
For in the poverty of our inner selfs,
we claim to rule the world around us,
and yet each day as we close our eyes,
we know who we are,
we know ... we are still,
a little less than what we see ourselves as.
We are... blind men,
wanting to guide a crowd,
hoping that each journey is through a fog.