Pilgrim

He sits atop the baggage, snuggled within the shreaking train,

He hums his tune, with the smokey breeze and the passing crane.

He looks beyond the cracking roof, and the patches of green,

He looks beyond his struggling moods, scratching across his battered screen,

He’s crossing states, roads and signs,

He is laying off his spent off times,

He has been called for one such ride,

By his heart, ruffled apart in his tiresome stride,

He walks on the path for the quest of his soul,

He walks on the traces of the glowing flint stone,

He walks the rhythm of an unwinding scroll,

He walks with memories the wind has blown,

Like a bird looking for a twig, that shall build his nest,

Like a warrior afoot to conquer his quest,

Like a bee above the nectar’s chest,

Like a ray towards the shimmering crest,

His mind has lead him so far,

To the answers etched beneath a scar,

His soul has wandered this far,

In search of peace, locked in a sparkling jar,

Where hands cease to reach , so does the tangled heart,

He will reach his wishfull place,

That shall give him back his pace,

He shall emerge by the end of the maze,

With all the answers , twinkling in his gaze.