Wandering
An endless journey
Today, I travel again;
But what good is a road
that does not lead me to you;
they say its the journey that matters; not the destination,
but do we call it a journey,
without the destination?
or is it just wandering?
knowing, that there is no one waiting on the other side.
WANDERING!
Aimlessly, cluelessly;
like a wave in the vast stretch of an ocean,
born to die out with a stroke of wind;
without you waiting, nature has lost its charm
your image gave beauty a perspective
what once were green meadows with a melody of your name,
are now haphazard sounds, blown out of a child’s trumpet;
what once were mountains, grandiose and graceful
like the way you talked;
are now, dunes echoing the loneliness of my soul;
you were my aesthetics,
my portrayal of existence,
the canvas, I framed the world into;
Today, it's the same road, but everything seems different
I suppose that is what life is now;
wandering, without a destination.
When we love someone, they get embedded in our subconscious. It's like we began to see beyond our fixed spectrum of colours. The point where it all comes crashing and we hit a rock bottom, is the time when the same environment begins to haunt us. Maybe because we lose that extra light. So, we begin to drift into a similar world with a strange self. This poem is written to anchor those strangers to a ray of relevance. An attempt to give them a sense of belonging. Let me know what you think in the response section.
