Wayward Son

Looking back 10 years, the cart near the highway was our resting place right after dinner and smoke. The blinding lights of speeding cars, the shimmering stars together with them clouds. It was all around us. We slipped in to time unknown a world beyond that existed only in our dreams. When I say us I refer to my chum Vicky. I never had a bro but he was all.

I'd been always a wayward son, wayward boy the kid who astrayed and saw the world through the moments eyes. Nothing else mattered then. Nothing. Everything that had life and was new with life made me ecstatic, high and lost. This is not a time of introspection, but sometimes when you are so in the midst of crowd you steal few moments to be on your own. I find these priceless. Whether it is to write a quick thought or compose a tasteless prose or a lifeless poem about my life.

Its one more month and I'll be visting home after 2 years almost. Time flew, 2 years and where 'am I? The world has not changed though why should I or should I? I still see the same emotions in different place, same people operating on different scale. No matter where you are the world is the same, happiness is only a piece everyone wants. There is a cost to it too. The means to it has become harder I guess.

Well yeah may be not..what do I know when I made it high priced. Arent we the one who sets a price to happiness? Who defines how to live your life, my life? Is it me? Sometimes I even wonder whether I'm in control of my life or do I put my poor self to the endless chauvinistic obligations of a restless world I'm surrounded by.

The thought to break free never ceases, the more it clings on to me the more I try. I end up walking on the clutches of past and present on the road to the future. I believe this to be the one, night and day I travel. I listen but the words dont last forever. I look but the vision gets blurred after the scene. The vision of being alive only lasts so far when thinking ceases completely. It gets to a cessation and I relent to keep it that way. The struggle for better ground is so profound. This is when I take forms.

Staring at the high flyin eagle I imagine its me, soaring high and clear, where the whispering cliffs are mere specs and mankind below is an unknown. The perennial river suits my thirst, I appreciate life as much as it appreciates my life. At this point high I'm one, in one with the cosmos and everything around. I see the oneness everywhere, when the endless sea meets the sky, when the mountains rise to whisper to the moon, when the gliding breeze sails on the great blue oceon. I see it all as one, together in synergy, as fresh as the bud as new as the new born, as timeless as time.