Ramblings of a wayfarer [1]
Oftentimes these moments were frozen
Never do we shirk from tedious responsibility
Of side-stepping sharp thorns and crooked stones
This steamy embrace is not a detour
But a brief respite for crooked bones
From the gut-wrenching choice
Of taking a path most promising.
Moments of this journey were glass-walls
Of a prison, or so, she says
Even praises of beauty and the allure of love
Failed to tame this heart
This mind is forever curious, blowing bubbles
Of whys and when
So engrossing is the search among niches
And crannies of time.
As wayfarers often we pray
That we see it all
In our mind’s eye.
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