The traveller
In the cold misty mountains where I stayed
Came a man who looked wiser than his age.
Bold as an eagle, he walked up to the shade
And came to my humble home for food and a place to stay.
He told me all about his travels,
To places I've never heard of.
Of a land no one could unravel,
And a place where there was no love.
He called this place the underworld,
A place which had no happiness.
An abode for lost souls of the world,
To come and wash away their madness.
The place reeked of sorrow and fear,
And had a gloomy aura.
He felt it was time to move on with his travelling endeavours,
And went out the doors of death to search for flora.
He stood at the doors of heaven,
And thought he had finally reached the epitome of his life.
It was magical and majestic, topped with perfection,
Every soul in this place lived without strife.
As days turned to years,
The traveller had to move on to see more such wonders.
So he left heaven to search for lands with both laughter and tears,
To discover different places and search for answers.
When he finished his tale,
I asked him, "where can I find these places?"
To which he said something that still trails
In my heart and never seems to wither away.
"That's up to you child", he said,
"Because every place is a state of mind.
It creates heaven when you have a calm head,
It creates hell when you're unkind."
Saying that he disappeared.
Even though I still search for him everyday,
I know in my heart that he had come to clear
The differences in my mind and to keep them at bay.
Now I understand what he meant,
When he said the places were a state of mind.
Heaven and hell can be found in two sides of an argument,
It all depends on what you choose to follow till the end of time.
A poem on sin and retribution, whether there really is heaven and hell, whether our actions affect our after-life or govern them