The Self Speaks......

Marching down the dunes,
crossing the faded lines of identity
a moment lived longer enough in my space
as secured .....as in peace

Therez the door, therez the path,
as new as the old
a chance , a speculation
for the self to rise,
a stranger waiting in this path of light

Flying in warm blue skies
the rainbow traces the rain,
So does the mind...
as a rover in course of time.

We gather , we build
nestling in the furnished wants,
cult in our own ways
Yet, life takes the invisible breath
to make us live in need ,desire
wandering in the same world of thirst.
cult in its own ways.
A ray to the future
not in the palm of fate,
is the trust in the seed
for the reasons unknown
speaks the soul,
Cult in its own way..

But then, Why does life struggle in its own hands?
Coz , the rose makes its own thorns. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .