in my desperation to catch a dream
i assumed wings to catch that
eluding dream...
everywhere my vision is blurred by
the cruel winter fog...
there were times
when winter was
simply different
the chill breeze blowing
would kindle craving
for warmth and the languid
nerves awaiting...
it's an agonizing search
my wings badly bruised
the pain seemed immaterial
the point is how many times
i missed my self in these futile
attempts of cutting through a fog
that never seems to dissolve...
20dec2009
08.00hrs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Marvelous. That inner fog is much cruel than the seasonal fog. I am struggling hard to vanquish it, but still the fog is in the lead! Wish me luck.