The Trail

What prompts one to find the trail of sadnesses

Until the day their imprints appear on the heart

Upon daily treading, the overgrown grasses perish

The nakedness of a forlorn path feels violated

Learning from the entrapped patterns day and night

Losing sight of any other route amongst the clamour

The intoxicating drinks of this world taste annoying

A sommelier’s advice sounds jarring at that moment

The naked path used to the stupor of melancholic soul

Nature’s anguish and world’s apathy create a stir

After many miles may be, the traveler shall sleep



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