Nomad is what you are.
across the rugged, treacherous desert of life.
you walked. kept walking.
Many a miles you looked around for
water, the ocean of life.
Many a times you felt you found it,
only to falter, and turn around.
Mirages. Fucking mirages.
Mirages exist in realms of thought.
within which you chose to live.
Scared of breaking the realms?
Adventurous you said? Dont think so.
Not by soul. By spirit, maybe.
And the mirages grew in number.
They encompassed your thoughts,
the way you felt.
And one sudden day, nomad..
.. you had no feelings at all.
You never recognised the oasis.
You think it is another mirage.
So, what are you going to do?
Turn around and walk away,
along faltered paths?
Why wouldn’t you?
Maybe the very realms of thought are
Maybe there are no thoughts anymore?
Remember? It is better to feel with the heart
than think with the mind.
So, across the arid desert,
you finally found the oasis,
quenched your thirst,
yet doubt its very existence.
But you never realised,
that the oasis was always there.
A hundred thousand years.
Waiting for the solitary nomad.
To make it feel complete.
Don’t remember when I wrote this, but found this poem scribbled on a restaurant napkin in one of my jeans pockets.