Trails of the wandering Wolf

Gran-ted a life But what's one lifetime? Breath, body and mind No heart, nor soul... "Maybe," I cried "darling..." "It'll all soon be fine." But when I look around I don't know anymore. Cuz it all ends when you say And all plays when you're there And it all goes away When you ain't. No more... Happiness is everything Is all people say. Yet, they take what they can take Till they can take no more. We're all a bunch of liars, Fantasizing all day. "Maybe, it'll be okay." And take some more. If only we could fly And act like we're okay. Hey, look. Here's another day Let's walk some more. We'll be alive. Beginning to realize What's important's to be kind Than waging war... The bittersweet memories Are enough to make you smile. Wage a war of Human kindness Till love, rules the world...

 Among the heroes young and old, There lies one, tales untold. Yet, their valor surpasses Its worth in gold. No God, no country, No man, nor mind Is untouched By this humble soul. From words to warriors And sums to saints; All owe homage to This character, quaint. Profound depth and Light-hearted laughter. Lifting the veils of ignorance, With warmth incandescence Friend to the lonesome Voice with a cause. A family to one and A guide to the lost.

If only times could change. That eternal wish, passed on through ages. If only things were different. A lost cause... A gamble on meagre wages. But what about hope...? The heart decries. What of love? That, which we hear, never dies... You see, knowing is a funny thing. You may belive in lies But seeing through those eyes The truth, you never realise... It is all out there. All the love, all the hate Just or without cause One's early the other a little late. Veins pumping green And vines, red wine... And the whole world's a circle Damned and Divine... In this mist of systems and sounds Comes a call, Stalling chaos and stilling the mind But fate's coy play around me Steals the dance once again...

The hunger for written words beckons me A look into the deep and soul A dramatic passion grips me A soundless screech in a great hall Twisting shades of vivid hues Maddening any sense within Wafts of scents of red and blue Circling the world within Fire lighting them wild sinews Restlessness driving the mind Look no further. The light renews All that's smoke, ashes or sand. No sun overhead, but all in the see As the wind clears, light shining through. Memories surrounded. Bleak, undying residues.

Scouring land and deep sea In search of a soul within Abrupt rocks and waves Washing off that elusive scent Caught a glimpse of her briefly Only to be lost again. Pining and tormenting this heart of mine Yearns ceaselessly to feel again. Cogs turning, Life is flowing Slipping away, but not soon enough. Come death my way, that gentle breeze... Or pulling grappling, See her, I must. Whether time stood still Or was whisked away from under me I still see her, reminiscing... What cruel games fate plays with me. I swing and hurl blows All seeming to land their mark But hitting air. As things begin to slow... I hear those whispers. Those Coy tantrums, Sweet things I loved to hear. I open my arms in expectation. Only to be tricked once again, by the air. Air that I feel I have drawn long enough. Enough as a slave to its vital touch. I but wait for that time When I would have finally drawn enough...

I know now how it starts. It feels like today is a holiday. Like everyone goes to work to BE shallow, like a ritual. It feels like everything you do seems like a dream. And everything that someone else does seems like an idea. A concept. A concept like what if life was like this. This mundane state of existence where everyone believes that life has a purpose and that till you do not realize it, all you can do is be pushed around by it (life). As I write this, I feel a distinct drain of energy. All images, all masks... Everything that conceals the dark, gray innards, all being lifted. Setting free the rain clouds to hover and unleash their torrents. It feels like a holiday.  At first a pleasant, lightness of being. Like everything is a dream. Like you are invulnerable. Indestructible. And then you begin to sense the dissatisfaction of eternal satisfaction. Like there is no purpose. There is no reason. There is no life. Just persistence. Like you have aged a million years in a span of