Lost, astray, but still in motion,
forever curbed with inaction,
and amidst certain confusion,
hard, it is to find inspiration.
An atom of thought,
which rises with doubt,
will cause many a belief to flout,
that very scheme it chose to support.
Lost in silence amid a million words,
with choice none, but to play the chords,
a boy listens the drumbeats of his mind,
which is akin to the passing wind.
Oh Creator, what have ye made
of this soul, that is already slate?
I try to take shape, of the present
but shape, is that thing, I most resent
Inspired by; आखरी अलविदा, Aakhri Alvida (Last Goodbye), Strings, 2006