Waking, like in a dreaming land,
Standing up in a freezing land.
Standing in the mist.
With sugar in the hair.
Panting in the chill of mist,
With head up high in the air.
Getting the feel right
Into the unknown.
Getting the chill right
From the known.
Never gonna get his feel of thrill,
Only in this site with less canopy.
Breathing in the thrill,
Hugging its own belly.
Following the odour of dark,
Getting plague on a bark,
Saying – “beware of the sight dimming”.
Confused by the plague rhyming,
Rolling on mere ahead,
Into the thick, dense mist,
With no destination plead.
Yet showing self its own fist.
Feel like walking
On a zimmer frame,
Feel like wanting
For a warming flame.
Suffocated in the freezing, breeze with the glee
Choke free seeing the birds flee.
Casting out the fear picked,
Claiming for the ordinary nib.
Craving for more epic
Cracking for heroism clip.
With the zing, in the swinging,
Feeling the damp, in the strolling.
Grief disappears like fireflies.
Things to learn as time flies
When everlasting voyage cease –
It stops, then freeze,
Go on then live forever,
Calculating the victories of ever.
