Journey

The road of the mountain;

doesn't allow to express the pain.

And the lovable dream of tired eyes;

A broken guitar- A drop of tear - A blind rise.

The stars of sky smile to see;

It is bittersweet like a honey bee.

The peak of it seems too high and kind;

Although the restlessness is hunting the mind.

Time is cruel and never allows the past;

The clouds hide the stars at last.

The sea-level rises and it becomes deep;

We have to spread after the last sleep.