Soliloquy

There’s some truth in every story you’ve heard,
The world’s a stage full of unlikely bards,
They are there in every song you’ve wanted to sing,
Unaware of all the changes they bring.

In a frozen state of the stuttering mind,
Do the words start flowing and rhymes you find,
And all the verses you tried to write then,
If only you had just picked up your pen.

I have never seen a vagabond who loved to roam
But he has a different sense of the word ‘home’,
Of course, last night, in your courtyard, did he stay,
And he will soon leave at the break of day.

All your life, all this time, you have had some
Forget the man you once wanted to become.
All the days of glory- yes, you always wanted to win,
Yearning for earthly heaven, did you recognise them?

If you call a gypsy a tramp, you do him wrong,
He never travels alone, he brings his home along.
The mind is the only wanderer that stays,
And we live happily, blind to its devious ways.

The road is only so good, as the wanderer knows,
It’s because of the thing called ‘home’, he goes,
To places his mind has been a zillion times before
His limbs were willing and his eyes were sore.

So an earthly heaven will you finally find,
In the unlit, dark alleys of the mind.
Then what will you have to say in your defence?
That you’ve finally mastered over your sense?