Bewildered, but I see; I wonder where this is leading me.
Confused, not quite; I can still see the flashing green light.
Bundled innocence I had with me, when I set off on this journey,
Has dripped down, found its way to the ground, leaving none for me.
And gathered well wishers included politeness and humanity.
Virgin sight invited a war raged between faith and reality.
No devoted mastery or death-defying courage could assist otherwise
When saddled endurance is overshadowed by childish mockery.
Between then and now stands neither a rhythm nor synchrony,
All that lingers are a handful of dreams, crumbled and dirty.
Sweat by sweat the day be measured polishing his destiny,
With bloody hands, been trampled upon, and dust to breathe.
Dread and threat, the passer by, fears no peasant mutiny,
Baffled, yet helpless; falls short of words to breathe.
Only droplets felt, guides familiarity, ushering momentary solace
Whose comfort felt, even a second is too long exploited.
Hands come together, and provokes subconscious contracts
Enchanting illusions of trust and faith, compassion and no regrets;
To wither as poison creeps, when chants misspelled,
Yet again he stands alone against the wall, embraced by his shadow.
A mother’s familiarity remains, but a yardstick of measurement,
The constant need to brace away has surrogated a stoic.
Come thundering storm or a wrath may; defunct to its own creation,
I’m here, still standing tall, though my plume beheaded.