As my head touches the pillow,
My spirit gets flight and in to the
waves of slumber I let myself go
caring less about the world
am leaving behind
because I know on the other-side,
am going to be all I want to be;
The King of My Own Destiny.
Reality scares me,
Reality weakens me,
but in dreams is my strength.
Despite my earthly misfortune,
I get that minute glimpse of hope...
That one day the sun will raise
and set over my head.
I'm a hero...
in dreams.
The beams of the evening sun
caress the vast park
sending shades of gold
over nature's green.
Nannies run after toddlers
in an angry merriment,
Parents sit on park benches keeping a
hawk's eye over their children,
Infants urgently demand for this cotton candy
or that ice cream cone.
Some teens seem to enjoy
the magic of the evening
while others wish for thunder
than be part of the family field day.
The elderly seek peace
since it was already established
that there would be no quiet.
Younger lovers sit in excluded corners
embracing each other.
This is why I love working in the park
because I get to see all the milestones of life.
I smell a rat,
A rat I know so well.
It's stench is as strong
bringing salty tears in my eyes
and a nauseating lump in my throat.
I wish I could choke on it and die
than humiliate myself with
a broken heart's tears.
Coz I have been down this road
and yet I let myself fall in so deep.
I'm like shattered glass among grains of sand.
I wish I could find myself
but I have got no power left this time.
Four times I have been bitten,
Five times still not shy.
How could I forget that I am just a stepping stone?
How could I forget?!
It's three weeks now since
I started my visits to the secret pond.
I stumbled upon it on my tear-blinded
walks in the woods.
Since then I have been a devoted visitor,
the only one who sought
the spiritual healing in its still waters.
But on that night I could not miss
the difference even in the air I breathed.
He was there...
for the very first time...
and probably the last,
I saw the man who was not there.
He stood in a spot not far from mine.
In the moonless night had I not focused
I would have missed him,
he was smoky-white,
I could almost reach through him,
his unusually long frail back
seemed stiffer than wood,
and the hairs on his head
were scanty long tendrils that made waves
in the slight blow of the night breeze.
There were no features on his face
save for the blank hollows
where his eyes were supposed to be.
But I bet my soul
there were tears streaming out of them.
His smoky hands and legs
faded away into the darkness.
Despite his physical unnaturalness,
there was nothing terrifying about him.
I oddly felt okay with his presence.
He gave me something bigger
to think about than my self-pity.
I wondered how many times he had seen me wailing,
cursing the heavens for my misfortune
because something about him
told me it was not his first time there.
Here was a restless spirit
seeking the comfort of my secret pond
and all I have done was disrupt that peace
with my cries of self-destruction.
The lump in my throat dissolved.
My teary escapades saved for another day.
But for that particular day...
I walked home a changed man.
As my head touches the pillow,
