They say it’s auuwsome to be here,
Diving into a vast ocean of books
With human fish swimming all around,
Trying to get the hook,
Devouring the printing bound by bound.
Young and old of any sort,
Submerged in their own stacks of books,
And they read happily ever after…
Solitude is golden.
It’s when you take pleasure in yourself,
Being who you are.
It’s when you shower yourself
With love and attention,
Speed up as the road is clear,
With street lights lining up,
Lighting the way, front and rear.
Brace yourself for whatever comes up.
When queries fill the sphere,
But all you can find is shadow,
They turn into a cloud of doubt,
Then dissipates in no air.
No, I’m not in the mood for contemplating,
I’m just here as a being,
Without much thinking.
Like the Koi freely swimming,
Without worry about anything.
There are roads less travelled.
Quiet and isolated.
You’ll find no crowd,
Nor any feast arranged.
Just you, and the road,
And the sun beaming the warmth you need
Every now and then, so that
You know you’re not forgotten.
Pillows as soft as a dreamy lullaby,
Carry you to another dimension in their comfort.
Rest, and enjoy what the time provides as a supply:
The present being of your sort.