The unknown color

Why am I considered
when not all they preach,
to gods of light
will I be ever to reach.

To the every unusual emotion
you call it being dark,
I wounder did you ever realized
the importance of trees and their bark.

Should not we talk about
the black and those brown,
why is this color blindness
when no one holds the crown.

I wish if humanity have been
not educated about the colors,
or should have made learn
more about infinite lovers.

Isn’t it beautiful
we call it black,
being no definition to beauty
where are we on the track

if acceptance is the lesson
then where did we lack,
understanding everything how
uneducated is it to accept the black.

Wanderer

From almost no where
I went some where,
not sure what place
nor I do care.

It is all the emotions
you take with and walk,
feeling too much but
do not prefer to talk.

I feel it too much
and the heavy burden,
wiping my thoughts again
and again until it gets blurred in.

I do not worry about feeling
but about the heart,
what is that makes you
wanderer moving apart.

Fear

Do you know the land
even darkness has a smear,
do you know a place
where mind can be without fear.

Is it a place where mind
does visit even you don’t want,
or it takes you to the pace
where fear gives a grant.

Does is it skip the journey
where you might fall,
or does it takes you beside
the thoughts of wall.

You don’t feel as it is
just in your mind,
what is the path to neglect
and try to feel being kind.

The Light of Stars

The night is about to come
with the silence sinking,
the workmen are returning
from all their work and thinking.

The night is about to set
with all the cold stars,
the moths have started
gossiping of all the scars.

I ran all over the fields
to see the first sight of stars,
have been asking to the clouds
is it too far to the mars.

The birds singing happiness
and returning with joy,
the nests have been awaiting
with their little toy.

To the stars of strength
what took you so long,
I’m hear to talk those
pain to which I didn’t belong.

The streets

A vision as of crowded city streets
full of people and chaos,
what are they for
and what have made them arouse.

A glister of panic
where silence is not around,
to the feets rushing for journey
making it a heavy ground.

In the race full of crowd
what is they are running for,
where the lands are pleasant
why do they frame a war.

The mountains near the city
has seen the faces turning old,
they all have lost everything
in end that was not the gold.

The winter

We sat together in the cabin
between the green woods,
evening was to settle
with the cold breeze in backwoods.

Holding the warmth as source
firing the woods in core,
dazzling in those firewood
trying to catch the flames on floor.

We sat and talked until the night
endless conversation and togetherness,
hiding ourselves from the same sight
which moon had as happiness.

The voices in which spoke
carried the sense of cold,
in the long nights of winter
the togetherness was gold.

Hypocrisy

Do you see the race
the world is running,
where everyone has to
play still they turn cunning.

Where is the finish line
I wondered asking,
to what you as
everything is multitasking.

What is the race for
and what is to win,
how down they feel
losing as a sin.

We are born from
this only nature,
grows among them
as their creature.

If you know the truth
then please share,
what is the hidden lie
that still isn’t fair.

We are distinguished
in a large democracy,
are you getting ready
for all those hypocrisy.

Untrodden ways

When life shows the path
sometimes you fear,
without walking on it
you may blame it as smear.

The certainties you
are wondering for,
and you prepare for
the uncertain war.

We all love those
trodden path,
neglecting the
unknown strath.

Where are those
untrodden ways,
as an act of fear
everyone plays.

The little dancers

Have you ever noticed
how wonder they dance,
have you ever seen
their beauty at glance.

To the fields they
are part and do belong,
no matter if it is a garden
or those fields long.

The companions of winds
and the traveler,
how beautiful they make
gardens as a cavalier.

In those lovely garden
making a path for pass,
the glory is of those
little dancers, grass.

Magic

And when was the first
time you saw it,
around the mountains
and beside your feet.

I wonder what energy
helps you to glow,
what is that makes
you on the river flow.

How gently sometimes
they care and quarrel,
are these the same
winds coming from the barrel.

How beautiful it is
to see the showers,
story is contagious
the sun and her flowers.