Initially, it was an innocent feeling
A longing to escape treacherous lives.
In one season the seed was sown,
And in another hope was reaped.

Before long, the path to new lands was paved.

Differing thoughts bound by creed,
Met at the river of blood
Parting between Ebony and Ivory.
It was grief that sheltered them.

At home, it was prosperity that was desired.
Love was for Lady Success, yet unrequited.
But amongst the best, the love brought setbacks,
And amongst the worst, it carried envy.

Thus the path to wealth blocked with thorns and thistles.

The seeds sown among the thorns,
Are the peerless seeds.
But disillusions of wealth and pleasure choke them,
*Reaping nothing but unfruitful labour.

He write in bread crumbs,
trails of clues that will not be found because the birds have eaten them. Fleeting, unremarkable, but it feeds and feeds and fills empty stomach. Unfulfilling but full.

( Most of the days that is so much better than being hollow)

Over the years, the forest grows.
Grasses mold it self into canopies, rooftops that shields him from the light. A darkness that blinds but pulsing with warmth. Branches twisting towards each other, entangled in each other stories. 'write better' they whispers.
Flowers will not blooms but the sweet smell of honeycombs wafts through the air like hunger.

( we are hungry and hungry and lonely tell us stories, tell us more more more more please moremoreore-)

So the path to home become unrecognizable. Intangible, flickering as if it wanted to be real.
He feels kin ship down to his bones and whimpers fall out from his mouth, quivers but does not fold.
He curled but life would not, will not let him bend.

What should a man do if he cannot curve, cannot bow and break? They all said that to achieve greatness, he have to taste 'broken' on his tongue. Ripe to the point of decaying, fingers sticky with black honey.

He let his teeth chatters, secrets flew out of his mouth like love letters. Carved into him self are the promises made by breakers and yet, honesty is what he sounds like. A forest is an illusion, they say. Wrap your perception until everything look the same and there is only doubt in your self.

( After all everything have to protect their heart)

Peeling barks, bleeds. He bit his lip, wounds are his lovers but everyone knows that love is treacherous. There is a little boy and a man. There is Him, the one who only grows and feeds but never fulfills. 'Isn't that enough?',he asked.
This was what you sow into me, you make me grow into a man but not a human. So he becomes,
forest isn't the only thing that can burn.

( How do you escape your self?)

This is a mirror house, a forest where every trees are your thoughts, their roots are your beliefs, and their seeds are your doing.

(most of the times, it become your own undoings)

You reap what you sow, but what if you are the one  who was sowed.

-nabs

In the stretch of time,      I sow my seeds so
I may leave my life     like light leaves the sun.

Disturbed by the fact that future is uncertain,
as of now,
peace of mind is the only thing,
which is need of hour.

Desired since long,
desired often,
peace is now,
also is need of hour.

Everything in life comes at a price and hence never take anything for granted even if it seems to be a part of your life because you reap what you sow.
Hence always it's better to have a firm cause behind each and every effort that is made in life while in present.

Definitely if not now,
then later on sometime.
If not in present,
then in future,
definitely success will be a part of your life,
which will make you feel and understand the fact that outside world is a lot different from what was thought of it since prior.

Even if you have decided to remain yourself while in present,
always remember,
keep in mind and follow the same,
never take anything for granted ever again in life.

The springs bracken fronds swish and sway and yet there is no wind
Lying on the soft verdant grass and observing the fern, there is movement
From between the intense greenness appears a black nose followed by a snout
Shades of grey, with a little black and as the head with observant eyes appears
There is white, although a ***** one, for it is Badger who appears
No announcement, no fanfare, in fact quite the opposite, for he has much to fear
His strong shoulders follow through as he pushes out into the field
He has a muscular body, built for digging and his nose snuffles as he tests the air
Behind him, but a little shy, his sow close by his heels as she enters the scene
For a moment both stand shoulder to shoulder, their noses both a quiver
He is first; he shuffles off into the meadow in search of food, worms and snails
The sow is wary, and well so as her cubs join her at the edge of uncertainty
They, a boy and a girl are not so worried, for life to them is full if surprises now
But they have not yet met the many who would take them for their dinner
Their mother and father are a different game, but presently Fox would like a go
There is weasel and stoat and owl floats above with buzzard and hawk
These hunters all like a youngster of any breed, and if there was chance of dinner
And so, as they gambol and play upon the grasses, their mother stands on watch
These cubs, they must be taught, taught playing does not feed their stomachs
Taught that food is not free and must be hunted each and every night or die
And the food they seek, there are also many others who feel their need to gorge
With one eye above, mother seeks the juicy worm, and tries to teach her cubs
Her youngsters eat all she can deliver, fat juicy snails and the odd slug or two
And then, upon the air although very scant, a smell most awful and rank
It would appear the lord of the hedgerow is nearby, and he will be out hunting
He wears a shiny coat of red; he carries a most bushy tail and fangs of yellow
At this time of year, he will have a family of his own and need extra food
His home is not near, or the Brock badger would know and challenge
Now the sow is worried where her husband is, and if he is near to protect them
The scent becomes harder and her lips peel slowly from her teeth and she hisses
Lifting from the ground over the green grass she dimly spies a red coat skulking
The evening light is falling fast, her eyes are poor, but she can smell her enemy
She hears the pad of his paws as he draws ever near, his coat brushed by grasses
Hissing she draws her cubs to her side, the decision quickly made to fight here
Speedily they run beneath her upraised body, her scent comforting she is mother
And on comes Fox, he’s not so stealthy now, he knows he has been seen
He skirts the trio out on the meadow; he knows she cannot be guarding two
And here he thinks is a quick early evening meal, he is confident, he is Fox
Near and ready he crouches to the ground, choosing his meal with care
Now ready decision made, he rushes in, his jaws open to grab a tender morsel
His eyes are centred on one cub that wanders from his mother’s belly fur
Bam out of the blue Fox is shunted away, the brock has returned, his teeth ready
There’s a fierce tussle and this Fox learns his lesson, to leave Brocks children alone
The male Badger returns his teeth bloodied, his teeth full of fur, but triumphant
His wife greets him, his cubs adore him, then he leads them back to the bracken in the night.