My Years Of Solitude...

It has been a very long journey,

Meandering like a river, which seeks its course,

Often I wondered on my existence,

If living does not make sense,

Maybe my death shall do.

And what is death, than a mere passing

Through the gates of fog,

When naked and with empty hands,

Shall I walk unencumbered,

No shame or pity,

No anger or hurt,

Shall sail through my soul,

Which my empty years in solitude,

Have etched on me.

Dusk or dawn, equal were they to me,

As I lay in the grass green and felt

The moist earth,

The sound of the winds in the trees,

The changing seasons,

What was real and what were dreams,

Drowned in wine, staggered were my thoughts,

Duality is in all things,

A matter of perception, a lost memory

From past, keeps haunting me,

No rest comes, in my waking hours,

Or my resting state.

Words and scriptures seem placebos,

Some wounds are not meant to heal,

As some bliss cascades and multiply,

By thinking of times that were.

Long ago and far away,

It seems so distant yet can be touched,

By my soul, which aches for a return,

My wings may be broken,

My castles a plaything,

Of sand and foam,

To be washed by the timeless waves,

But hope is an undying emotion,

To fly again, no fetters or chains,

Can stop the spirit,

Then maybe I shall truly rest,

Amongst the ones I loved and lost.

Long has been my journey,

Don't curse me with longevity,

For emptiness mocks at me,

Full life have I lived,

I crave no more than just to merge,

With the stream,

That leads to the ocean.