I reached there as a slave.
To the guiding light.
Dazzling for those,
Who lay above the sky.

A desolate route,
Which promised lush fruits,
Whose sweet compelled none.
As the shining light’s call,
echoed through all.

Hoping for some soothing warmth,
Steps were set on changing harm.
Prayed I for trusty terrains,
As I walked with trembling arms.

Scattered with petals,
Were the desolate lands.
Who tempted my boots,
To weigh in one more stand.

Harsh hail, dried my dreams.
Soaking rain, wet my hopes.
Akin to a horse, wearing a visor,
I kept moving, being no wiser.

The guiding lights carved paths,
Compelled it to dream of lush lands.
But the light lost its way and warmth,
Without the dreams of me and harm.

I saw a sliver of light,
Shine through my eyes.
Dried petals,
Hanging from frail lies.

As I felt them,
It gave my throbbing heart,
A solace of warmth.
I at last rested in peace,
lying above, the sky beneath.