Stay alive..
Stay alive is what, I was designed to do,  until eventually exhaust the very life I'm meant to keep alive..
Maybe I might require some stimulants to keep me out of this slumber, anytime the system  grows weak and weary falling into a slumbering state, hoping it's not the slumber of eternal, have a long way to go on a track so short and narrow and a system so weak, undoubtedly unable to withstand the pressure of "against the current flow"
"Against the current flow"why go on against some thing that never gets weary and never takes a time out...

THE WIND
He wants to be like the wind
the breeze ever present, yet not all ways felt ever blowing, ever so soft and translucent, it voiceless  rhythms with such a fine melody that it makes even the mighty oak tree dance to its tunes, ever so underrated yet more precious than all the finest lucre known to all, it's a void, vortices of ether,ever so empty yet none can exist without its  presence..
Though never seen, it stirs up and agitates the most calmest of seas to a magnitude unclassified..

The who I have become ..

Sometimes it's quite forlorn to be extensive with words in ur head, never can one be able to utter them, I feel so frustrated, I guess I will just have to train myself to be outspoken, no matter how well I train myself to be outspoken, can never be enough.
Can't tell how got here, but he is loving it..
But avoid loving it just a little too much, else you get lost in what's never really yours.

There are words I don't think I can utter at the moment, the who I have become.. But that's fine..

One who foster too many words but hardly say a word.. But that's lovely..
One who spent hours with himself searching for knowledge, stealing a glance at the sunset, half blurry half full moon.
Lost in admiration ere interrupted by a shooting star..
One consciously or unconsciously programmed to be congruent with societal or cultural influence..
One whose formed series of programmed strands which governs it's existence without being the programmer...
One whose mistakes uncountable yet still much to make, learnt so much yet learnt nothing..
One formed from nothingness into somethingness of impulses and desires, never ending desires that leads to absolute emptiness...
Like one left in lurch in the middle of a spacious dry desert, dehydrated, so weary of taste.
Continuous increase in weariness of taste by the passing seconds.
Continuous search for an oasis to quench his hankering, yet only find mirages which only increases his taste.. Buts that's still fine..
Open books all day and night in a constant note..
All with the one message harmonize yourself with the oneness of God..
Yet so many dogmas and misconceptionists spreading mischief for their selfish gains..

Daddy's little deary.
Daddy will never cut ties with his dearie on purpose
verily he's proud of her for never given up on him,
though, she's now a fully grown, young seraphic beauty, attracting tons of challenges, stress and strains..
  Things did go ironically from what daddy planned, and the track back home is just too crooked,
having darkness similar to the pitch of a moonless night not even a star to pave  daddy's way home, even the little lamp of daddy no longer lit, but daddy will never give up on making his way back home to his little dearie..

Poem to daddy's little dearie......