On every alluring  mountain peek
where the soil has buried it deep
there is a heart somewhere up there
hiding from everyone's reach
the rubble the rock the rugged roads
the cliffs the falls the thorns
the height the struggle the effort
differs from one to another
from bumps to dunes to spires
the struggle doth differ much
but if the climbers mind sees no other peek
then for sure your heart will be found.

For we all describe the same world
    In many different languages
      But we all have the same idea
        Of what this corrupted world thought us

on some benches, people never sat
on some there was always someone.

on some branches, birds never rested
on some there was always a one.

don’t worry my boy,
life is not a bench or a branch
but a park and a tree.

I’ve grown numb
And accustomed to
Whatever that was deemed
Extraordinary.
Does this make me dull
If the complexity of the universe
Has become
Ordinary?
No longer a stranger or an enigma
To my inner experience?
Does this make me boring
If I no longer find joy
In discovering something
Unsurprising?
For when you
Constantly dwell and live
In the unknown
Is it really a big deal
To find something unexpected?
I mean... what did you expect anyway?

I am more interested in human interactions
In the consequences
And the causes
Of my actions
And I have internalised the outside world
And the outside wonders and
Discipline and harmony
Has become my quest and
My childish discovery.