A horizon I believed in!

I saw him again, Sir Verseworth…
this time, walking at his best pace!
I couldn’t figure, what he was heading to..
I kept guessing, it might be the horizon!

I walk, I brisk, I run, I try…
yet, to suit his pace, I’ve to fly!
But a flightless winged bird am I,
so, far away from him, I lie!

As I followed his trail,
he paused, to let me catch his pace!
I ran to him, with his blissful face..
and all the hullabaloo made me pale!

Before I could enquire about his quest,
he chose to answer, reading my mind..

“Son, I’ve embarked on a journey,
a journey that’s driven by my belief!
My mind can think, can imagine..
but it’s my heart, that chose to believe!
And I believe my heart,
for it gave me the power to believe!
Now, I’m heading to a horizon..
a horizon where the sea of thought
and the clear sky, of its manifestation, meet!”

I pondered, and then I believed…

that what drove him is what he’s heading to!
I chose not to stay heartless to my heart..
I believed, and I shall be relieved!

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The Summer within!

I saw him again, Sir Verseworth
this time, walking towards my room.
I was Confined to my very little room,
filled with the winter’s dense brume.
All my sight seemed to be out of sight..
and I couldn’t have a moment of insight.
He was nearing my place..
with the fog hiding his face.
I was trying to clear the mist..
but couldn’t clear much.
Then, I felt a heavenly touch..
and the moment returned with all its gist.
I caught a glimpse of his long nose..
and he had the fragrance of a Rose.
Seeing him, all I did was to stare…
as the event that happened was too rare.
It was always me running to him,
but this time he came to me.
He gave me a glass with water to the brim..
and now, his whole face I could see.
He did not let me utter a few words..
as he began his celestial verse:
“Son, I could see the fog grow..
and the sweat upon your brow!
You sweat at the winter’s chill…
so I thought I must give you a pill!
Son, the fog grows with the winter..
but it also goes with the winter.
Try not to clear the brume..
that haunts your only room.
See beyond the mist and the winter’s ice.
There’s a fog in your room..
but remember, not in your eyes.
You find it dense and thick..
but that’s jus its little trick!
If you could look through..
you’ll find that the fog was never true!
The fog’s confined to the little room,
but out there, it’s just the sweet spring!
You were never confined to your little room..
You were only obsessed with this little thing!
You sweat because there was this summer..
deep within you, you just never knew!”
I wiped my sweat, my skin’s dew..
and I smiled at it, I knew its summer!

In-the-depth-of-winter

Casting my Shadow!

I saw him again, Sir Verseweorth..
this time, pacing on his steed!
He seemed to pay no heed
to the river or its weed..
He drove at light’s speed!
A vain endeavour though,
I decided to follow
this swift one on his way..
even as he was a mile away!
I could see him heading towards a meadow,
heading swift, casting a swift shadow!
Very soon, he was out of sight
and this somehow, did not seem right!
Nor could I hear the horse gallop..
nor could I see its worthy rider!
Yet, with all might, I made up
my mind, to think a bit wider..
to decipher the brevity of this scene,
with its protagonist unseen! 

Pondering I was, though helpless..
sitting there with a humbled prowess!
Heard a celestial voice from above..
sounded like Sir Verseworth now!
“Dear one, I’m now in a celestial realm, heaven.
And I’ve seen you moments ago..
So I left there, my shadow!
I’d to race my way to eternity
while I was in my peaks of vitality.
But I still cast my shadows
to let seekers trace their way!
So, leave all your woes..
and even your sorrows away!
Wake up, and trace my shadow..
but don’t forget to cast yours!
Reach heaven, your rightful place…
but don’t forget to leave a trace!”
There I was, casting my shadow..
making my way to the meadow!

horse rider silhouette

Autumn & Spring!

I saw him again, Sir Verseworth..
this time, staring at a mighty Banyan tree.
Nothing could let him free
of his ever-since-birth staring spree.
It seemed like summer, at noon..
when people, at the heat, began to swoon!
A few of ’em rested under the shade..
of this mighty banyan foliage.
With time, the green began to fade..
the tree began to shed all that leafage.
Almost the brink of summer, autumn..
when the tree hit its rock bottom.
Yes, all its might turned to fright..
and God forbid, it was a scary sight!
But Sir Verseworth kept staring..
A smile on his face, he wasn’t sneering!
Standing beside him, I silently whispered:
“Sir, Its Autumn.The green will come back..
and so does its shade, its jus a rough track!”
As always, he had different reasons..
than this usual cycle of seasons!
He spoke:”Oh My Dear Son,
there’s a lot more than the autumn.
There are reasons more than one..
that people hardly care to fathom!
Throughout Summer, this Banyan..
gave a cool shelter to every man.
At a point, the tree began to wail..
as all its green turned a sudden pale.
The tree thought in sorrow:
‘I couldn’t witness my own shade!’
So, all its leaves began to fade.
One by one, all the leaves shed..
and every man under it fled!
This was its autumn, my son.
By the brink of autumn, the tree will know:
‘Irony, that man wants some shade..
from the golden sun, under my bower
I’m open to His light and the Sky’s shower..
and everything for me, that’s made!’
And as this realisation dawns..
flowers bloom over its mighty arms,
The green returns, so does the spring..
and again the tree would be a beautiful thing!”
I stared at the tree, in its autumn,
and I knew only the roots were its bottom!

autumn_vs_spring_by_kopczynski_adam-d5byklh

Touching!

I saw him again.. Sir Verseworth..
this time, feeling a drop of dew!
He laid his pale hands on me,
and I began to feel a divine ecstasy!
I trembled in joy and all glee..
as if all my pinions have been left free!
I wondered how his pale hand
suddenly became a magic wand!
I was so brave now, like a warrior…
seemingly bound by no apparent barrier!
A momentary feel of his skin,
made me feel “All the world’s my kin!”
Unable to decipher the magic behind..
I had to get into Sir Verseworth’s mind.
He simply smiled at my thought,
He said “Mind’s not the right spot..
peep into my heart if you can!”
But I wasn’t him, I was just a man.
The sage then began his words of wisdom:
“My hand, pale it may be..
or may be that’s all you could see..
but my hand, like yours, can feel
everything that needs to heal!
Men often say, ‘Touch!
That really doesn’t matter much!’
But this mighty universe as such..
made its baby steps after a divine touch.
The feel of a baby’s skin so tender..
reveals you a part of this world’s wonder.
A kiss from your loved ones..
could heal your sorrows all at once!
When you’re bound in an embrace..
you feel the joy of all heavens and fays!
Frozen with all the winter’s snow,
a feel of warmth from someone you know..
you melt into your being, and its fire within…
a touch that could melt all your sin!
Truly said “Touch’s the most primitive!”
Few touch the life we live..
Few touch our wounded space..
with a big smile on their face!
I laid my hand on you..
felt your void, filled it all!
Filled it with my love for you..
and now you’re free from every thrall!”
I clasped his hand, that pale one..
Now I knew, it had the light of the sun!

power-of-touch

Passion or Profession!

Sir Verseworth was his name
and he was a man of much fame.
But I never knew him
though he was very well-known.
His glass was with wine to the brim
and was relishing meat leaving the bone.
He was at the other end of the table.
And Oh!..his mind was never stable!

It was after he left
that I came to know he is a famous person.
Again, I saw him….his pen moving too swift
over the paper with a style descent!

I enquired about his profession.

The answer came, “PASSION or PROFESSION?”
Oh!..Even his answer seemed to be a question!
I said “As you wish!”
He said, “As for Passion,
I am a poet….
As for Profession,
I am nothing as yet!”
Oh! he says he writes poems.
He says he is jobless.
Is he a Gobbledygook..??
“No!”..he said, seeming to read my thoughts.
He shook his head
and said in a verse:
“Passion feeds my soul…
Profession feeds my family!”
My soul is Well-fed,
but my family lacks good bread!”
I did not get him
for the time being!
It took me a day
to comprehend this human-being!

Then I felt:
Yeah!..his name
befits his style!
His very fame
was for his joblessness and his odd smile!