THE JOURNEY

Life is a wagon

Slithering through two

Long rails-dreams and reality.

Too close, yet

Never do they meet.

One futile without the other.

Yet, they never

Stop to make peace.

They unfurl in front

Of you, beyond that

Whisper of fog-far away

Hiding swirls and snares

And what not on

Its never ending path.

Fate runs the wagon

Smirking at its

Clamour  and cries,

Tensions and tears,

Never glancing back at

That rare happy moment.

A lifetime torn

In between two worlds

Speeding past

In search of a point

Where they meet.

And just when that veil

Of fog falls, there,

At that point, a bit away,

You see them crossing.

Joining and smiling at you.

When you are about

To get there-

Fate pedeals the brake,

The wagon,

Comes to a screeching halt.

Then your soul-like smoke-

Rises up, wanders to that point,

And dwells there

Mocking at your

Famished self, laughing

At the mad race,

Which you are just done with.