Out of the Mist

The wind was getting stronger, And the prints were too ragged, The hope was fickle, so were odds, And hapless soul was too shagged, Deaf, blind and a monk naked, As pure at heart as diamantine, The sun was raging and sand agitated, Burning at heart searched for divine, The shadows were raging and alive, And prints were lost in storm of time, The wind was wild, with a mirage in sight, And digs too seemed like a hard climb, Hope was fading, the vision was blurred, He prayed to Lord, not to be turned, The Soul of the world he said he earned, He got robbed, brighter he burned, A hand entered his frame of vision, He looked up to the ray of light, The soul shattered, so did my dream, There I sat, cogitating all night! Credits; Lake Minnewaska Photo Gallery

Moments of Weakness was an effort to remeber the moment of Deja Vu. When you think you are living the moments and then its gone, but that exact moments shows the significance of the meeting, which is Simple, Pure, Illuminating and Honest to death. As the Night grows old, A corpse rots in bitter cold, But the stars are wide awake, Above the cursed lake, Still! There I stand, With hand in hand, It’s about time to choose, Who I want to lose, Oh! Sweet haunting past, Beloved mine, whom I lost, Or the future thee, Oh! Bitter glaring thee, Darkness that’s glowing inside, Light that’s brought by the tide, The decision can’t alone be mine, While the chalice is still full of wine, The corpse is too gentle, With a touch, so parental, I dare not refuse, With a lot to lose, I miss the ruse, The songs, the blues, The stars are awake, And night grows old, Let’s go take our last howl at the moon, The corpses may not meet again so soon!