Mystery man..

We are way past,
Living the future our minds unscripted,
The books by thieves,
Thrives in the sky,
Withered, for the frolic never prevailed.
To honor the disgust.

A very existential fire,
Now fails to wake,
The placid memoirs,
Of a delusional mind,
Dissolved in the transit,
Braced by incapable strength...

Oh lonely mortal,
As we fall we part,
Our unison is not certain,
So lets leave it to the thrill of universal alchemy,
Charmed by some amount of persona which is only a deception,
The obnoxious signals now begin to emerge.

Have, I lived a lie,
Or have I now learnt to accept the truth,
Expectations of monogamy,
In this very dungeon where the inmates aren't compatible,
Lampooned for this whimsical ways...

All of us populate,
The transit of Mother Earth's orifices,
Borne within are malicious bigots,
Creating an inhuman potion,
So nasty, so very nasty,
Yet not had enough of it...

This invincible will,
A possibility of momentary unraveled skill,
Impregnated with sloth,
Forsaken by impulses,
A very late arrival of the warrior called instinct....

We always foresee self discovery,
Then we welcome ourselves even further into the labyrinth,
The nonchalant ascend,
Has never settled...

( Painting by Rabindranath Tagore ).