Allegory Poems-6 Poem by ashok jadhav

1. A Traveler Seeking a Lost Name
He walked with pockets full of days,
But not a name the world could say.
Each town pronounced him differently,
Each mirror shrugged uncertainly.
At last he stopped beside a stream,
Spoke softly what he'd always been.
The name he sought through dust and flame
Was waiting when he stopped the game.
2. Crossing Bridges of Choice
Each bridge was built of might-have-been,
Planks of doubt and rails unseen.
Below, the river argued fast
With futures sinking into past.
No bridge collapses till you choose,
Yet every crossing means you lose.
Choice is not the fearsome leap—
It's knowing what you cannot keep.
3. A Map That Keeps Changing
The map redrew itself by night,
Erased the wrong, redrafted right.
Mountains moved, and rivers lied,
Borders breathed and paths denied.
I learned at last what maps conceal:
They show the wish, not what is real.
The truest route no ink can hold—
It's written where your courage goes.
4. A Road That Splits Endlessly
The road refused a final form,
Each mile became another storm.
Left turned right, and straight grew wide,
Certainty was never signed.
I stopped to ask which way was true;
The road replied, Whichever you.
Some paths exist to make us choose,
Not to assure us we won't lose.
5. A Guide Who Vanishes Midway
He walked ahead, a steady flame,
Answered doubts before they came.
Then one dawn left no backward sign,
No farewell word, no parting line.
Lost, I cursed the sudden night,
Then saw his torch was now my sight.
Guides depart when hands grow sure—
Their leaving is the final cure.
6. Carrying an Invisible Burden
No weight was seen upon my back,
Yet each step bent the spirit slack.
Strangers smiled, "You travel light, "
Not knowing what I bore each night.
I named the load, it lost its claim,
Spoke its truth, unmasked its name.
Some burdens fade when brought to air—
They thrive on silence, not on care.
7. Returning Home as Self-Discovery
Home stood still while I had roamed,
Each wall remembered who I'd owned.
The doors were smaller than before,
The floors recalled my childhood floor.
I crossed the threshold, not the same,
The house now spoke my truer name.
We don't return to what we were—
We come to know who we've become.
8. The Final Door with No Handle
A door stood firm at journey's end,
No lock to break, no key to bend.
I pushed with prayer, I pulled with fear,
The door remained unmoved, severe.
At last I rested, ceased my fight—
The door dissolved into the light.
Some endings yield when we release:
The final door opens as peace.