I was here, in this dark wood
To find the treasure, I believed I could
But after wandering for years alone
In this forest of thorn
Under the sky, whose color so deep
I cannot further hold my weep

Is there anyone to help
Please tell
Can I cross this cruel forest
Or by coming here, I become a bonehead

'cuz if "or" is true,
I want to die
As I cannot handle a hope
That will become a lie

A crowd emerged
From classes upstairs
After washing their hands
They all sits here

In this room, biggest in the school
Where air is filled with, joyous molecules.
Oh, we had waited, for hours four
To step inside, the lunchroom's door

We all, me and my friends
Find ourselves on a bench
Our food in front of us
We join our hand.

A voice coming from mic
Sing a 'before meal rhyme'
Then start gossiping, this and that,
Enjoying the food, so good, we ate.

"Did you see the match, yesterday?"
"Me and my ma, are going to market on Sunday."
And we talk on every matter, that belongs to us
From a fantastic toy to every movie characters.

As soon as, we finished our meal,
Our lunch box, get sealed
And out of room,
We go in our classroom
But before we washed our hands,
As you all did after your meal

May be, it looks a little messy for you
But who cares?
Food and laugh, we all shares
In our, called with love, a lunchroom.

I see him everyday, on a broken pieces of mirror
His pale face, body thin, Eyes sink in tears.
Cry of his belly and brain, is all he could hear
Carrying the weight of his shattered dream
His heart beats in the fear
Will he ever overcome
From this enduring nightmare.
Will someday he can see himself
As he had wish to appear?
Lost in these thoughts, every now and then
He moves here to there
So the passengers, passing on the street
Called him, 'The Street wanderer'.

Sometimes he dives into his memories
Remembering how he had come here
Remembering that once he had his loving parents
His friends, his relatives, all were there
But he left the home and brought himself alone
To do something for which the world can cheer
And as you can see, he reached nowhere
Shedding his hope with every drop of tear.


But forget, what had happened in the past
As this morning, the Sun casts
The lights of bright fortune
What he have to do
is to follow his tune.
Sitting on a bench
That serve him as bed
He takeout his dairy
And his pen.
Started to jot
Whatever in his mind
Satisfied with nothing
He scratched all, in no time
In that anger, he had on self,
He hold his head, he yelp.
He remembered the words of his parents
"Focus on studies, You are not for all this!"
Oh, how good, if he follow their instruction
At least, he can see his reflections.

Time passed from day to night
And he is still, without smile
Sitting on that very bench
He pick his dairy, in his hand
Turning the wrinkled pages, all scratched.
Marking his disbelief on himself.
But this time he is determined
And this very night, he have to find
The rhyme
The very best rhyme.

I am sitting
My chin resting on my fist
As I'm sad
I not share my birthday with
Someone who had inspired the world
By his work and his skills.

"What happened?" my father asked
As I told, he just laugh
"I know the one," he said
And placed a mirror, to show me my face.

For three years, I am searching for the scroll
That can tell me about my soul
Where will it go when I will die?
How it makes me alive?
I want to find the origin and the end
And find why is it send
To take birth as me in this world of lives?
Is there something waiting for me to thrive?

What I think about my soul,
Is it should have some magical role
As they said, it never born nor die
And it's something my inside
But what I find wrong is it's not like a burning flame
Nor it can play any supernatural game
It's me but not my physical state
It's more than what they had said.

The concept of soul is very old
It is the difference between heat and cold
Years ago our ancestors asked
'Isn't we all, Living or ….. {need modification}
are made from the elements same
So what makes life moving and motionless dead?'
And as the answer, they said
It's soul.

Then they are writers like you and me
Who made soul, a ghost or a magic key.

But what my soul really is, not more or less
Than my thoughts, my behavior, my edicates,
It is the sum of lessons in my life
It's my obligations to those whom I like
It's my feeling and my believe,
It's what that separate me with all my fellow human beings
Despite we all have almost the same machine.
My soul is what's defines me.
My soul is what's inside me.

This is my journey, to find my soul
After which I reached on the shore (know the truth)

Your story is much like mine
But you write better than I,
And this inspire me to give another try
Instead of saying "I can't", a lie.

You inspire me to spread my wings
Into the endless most beautiful sky,
To do what I like
Arranging words in rhyme.

In this world with millions of cars
Some are comfy, some are fast
Some expensive, some are large
But the one, I love the most
Stands in my garage
Who, with family
Had traveled so far
Billions of beautiful memories I have
With my favorite car.