Man Of Ifs

I'm not only,

The very mind,

Which thinks that,

It wears the coat,

Of material reality,

Of natural establish,

To see the world,

And let this shadow persist,

But also a hid guy,

Who thinks not,

To scrap out,

Of this cave of ignorance,

Because this hideout,

Is actually the very lump,

Of intense neglection,

 

But what can I do?

I can't go anywhere,

Because if my eyes,

Even gaze at a path,

Then the memory,

Of the glances,

Would not live,

And under the threatening,

Hands of such,

Differently addicted,

Overwhelming fatigue,

Whose gifts been given,

For some Destined gifts,

That the threatening once,

Have got it,

The pie of it,

Will be held,

By this mind,

 

Still, let us ask,

This unseen sun,

And its untouched photons,

That when will,

You came to we?

Tell me how,

This thief of nothing,

Would come out,

To defeat the ifs,

And the pausing but,

How will change,

Kiss my head,

To let me sigh,

For the little relief?

Say when?

 

While the question,

Where yet to be fired,

An unknown glare,

Which seems to be,

A dot, somewhat of an unknown hue,

Caught my eyes,

That I had to know,

The very source,

Which in the end,

Hued the ignored content,

And I, who's just lost,

Four the way ,

And defeated the filth,

But not the hands,

Because they can wash,

And become bright again,

To show how much clean,

They can become.

 

Yes, now I can say,

That it's nothing,

That knocks to us,

To fly up to infinite,

Unknown but good possibilities,

And so I need not,

To live with,

The same view,

That I am,

A man of ifs...