Where I Wish to be ?

Where I wish to be ?

.

On the road to somewhere,

Somewhere I thought i wished to be.

Somewhere, that started as a destination,

its the road that’s become me. .

Little by little, each passing day,

Heart and soul that grow- cruising through purples,

or Stuck at life’s Grey.

It’s a joy ride, 

through the school that is life.

It’s a new canvas everyday,

Paint-brush that is mind.

On road to somewhere,

It’s the road that’s making me, me.

Does it really matter, 

where I wish to be ?

The Sunset in Mara

The Sunset in Mara.

Just that, it doesn’t really set in Mara,

It makes way for the circles of life to come alive, 

It’s the crimson trumpet that blows to make way 

For the battlefield to come to life.

For the eyes that glow in the dark and the hunters ready to unleash.  

The stealthy stalkers at ease,

Vs the vigilant senses,

the predators on loose,

Vs the strong defences. 

The failed chases, 

The triumphant blood red faces,

The joining dots to story of evolution,

And the daily survival races. 

A new story is written,

When sun sets in Mara.

Just that, sun doesn’t really set in Mara,

It makes way for Mara to paint the story of life,

For a new day to see.

Sanity?

Why can be black not separated from white,

Why do those greys form, 

and the dark clouds of doubt, give no respite.

Why does the fear from truth set in,

Why develops a comfort route to which mind gives in.?

Can there be stronger self, that would set that mind right,

Sanity that would prevail,

To set the black from white.

Run.

And these circles, that we keep falling to.

Circles that take us away from, the places that we need reach to.

Some time to Move away and look at, the circle they've weaved us to.

Some strength, to rise up and get where we must do.

Break away, for the self.

Self that needs be recognised too.

For it has to rise up, Break away from circles they've bound us to.

Run,

Run to where there's no need to hide.

Run to where you can be, just be.

Run to where their circles don't exit.

Run to where there's a meaning to.

Circles

Small big things lost the place they hold,

in quest for the other quests those were unknown

The square tiles, and the points cut, on crossing them over

The long hop, the short hop, the hop hop, the puddle left by the rain shower

The zephyr, the thoughts flew with 

The smell of the palms, he grew with

A few Small big things that lost the place they used to hold

He runs, and runs even more

The closer he gets, the farther it goes

He never draws the lines,Those were always there to be drawn

He is the king, sometimes he is the pawn

The quest, lost its place, to the Things that lost the place they hold

The circles exist

And the king and the pawn, always end up in the same box.