The Castle called a man’s Heart

Have you heard or seen the dens or prisons where free men were kept? 

If not, let me tell you about it, about the little details which no man told

First, those men put their trusts in imaginations and false hopes 

Clinging to the mirror, others casted for them for self discovery

The colors they see are crazy, the views about the future vague

Painted illusions, thoughts of what-would-be light the heart

Giving a moment of hope in the Castle’s rooms, that is how it began

Hope threw charcoaled sickles up the spiky ceilings and spikes fall

Thorns weave their way out of creepy mistletoes, as wrinkled roses shrunk

When a ghost pass, her breeze push over the old tray, tumbling the ashes

And when the old clock chimed the hour zero, strange figures came to trade, 

Pricing their wares- fear, sailing through the wind like a piece of paper!

At all corners, spider webs generously stood to greet any newcomer, 

The soot from ages of Chimney burns design the walls with grim ferocity

Black hues, some on the floor, some seeming like a reddened blood patch

Also the windows were not spared, the beauty could be seen ages past

At the end of each hall, rat colonies thrive, with lots of hay and dust

In the dark evening, the night lit up with fireflies scaling the ceiling

Dancing to unheard music, blinking their lights at ghostly galleries 

No, no one, but few would actually see the imagery that lived there, 

The blood of prisoners of war, their cries and sputum and mangled flesh, 

Innocent sighs, disillusioned spirits, become a great piece of disappointment

Now men live in various castles created in their heart of hearts

The taste of defeat lure the endless stream of men to those castles

Forcing some to accept Destiny, as their only mentor and citadel 

Those who knew the tricks played by the heart of hearts of men

Will chose to stand just outside the Castle’s walls to see more


Nature’s Forest

Take me to the quiet streamside, where no mans traverse, disturbs
Take me to the land, where my eyes see the beauty of your love

The sound of swooshing forest trees bring peace 
Actually there is no name for such queer tranquility, 
The amusement provided by the choral forest enchants
And the sight of slow flowing clean streams brings joy

Collected dew gather on tree leaves
Then merging, one with his brother
Flowed in a fast row of fine water
Drop, down to meet the waters below
Creating ripples, now and then

The cold firmament above is covered in mist
Quietness, great silence shield the green forest
Now, the tree leaves dance, waving quietly
Brown leaves, some dark red and light green 
All move with the winds direction
Some bold leaves fall off the branches
Dancing- turning, twisting, surfing the wind
Some found leisure, settling on the water
Sailing off, quietly to other stream banks
But those who fell on the ageless rocks
Stuck to the grip of the Fern
Waiting patiently, for the Winds to free them. 

Tiny insects seeking nectar fly around the river mouth 
Slowly, but quietly those waters find their way thru rocks
Rushing peacefully, shining the pebbles, pushing stray fish off
The air is icy cold, so are the sweet, fine waters of the stream

Now, the morning paints a mild, quiet scenery, 
Which waits, quietly waits for the aves cavalry