Sukriti Srivastava

Sukriti Srivastava Poems

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A Home For Thought

l'm a thought that wanders,

all around the world,

without any restrictions.

Morn till night I go,

from the real world,

to fantasies and frictions.



I move to the east, I move to west,

stop at a poet's pen to take a break,

I fly to the north, then to the south,

and take some rest at an author's house.



Far from that place, I fly away,

deep in the little boy's mind,

a world dwells there of sweets and toys,

and games and joy of all kinds.



Merrily I leave that soothing place,

and find myself in a youngster's brain,

how pitiful the sight was!

a mind full of desires, all wicked and lame.



I run from there to save myself,

and again wander all alone,

tired of roaming all around,

to search for a place of my own.



I search all the empty minds,

and suddenly enter an old man's sleep,

but saw him remembering his old days,

and the past for which he weeps.



Though I lack a human heart,

but such emotions make me sad,

I must've tried to console his soul,

only if a perfect body I had.



But off I go like the wind,

from his heart to their brain,

sent from one but received by another,

shackled up in this human chain.



Some try to share me,

some try to keep me safe,

from that humongous sketch of mine,

a shady little secret they make.



Little do they know,

I can't be locked, I can't be bound,

I can't be trapped, I can't be count,

I can't be missing, yet I can't be found.



I lurk away in the dark,

but sing my melodies under the light,

I sometimes play with the sense of man,

I can be wrong, I can be right.



Here I seek, there I go,

round the world constantly I roam,

over a thousand decades,

anxiously searching for my home.



But in the end,

I grow steady and slow,

and gradually fade away in the mist,

embracing my death as time flows.



With the people, I live,

with people, I die,

and have no existence of my own.

My search for decades was in vain,

for an individuals mind,

was my home!



~Sukriti

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