On his loneliness

Days that end into nights of restless sleeps, that is what his loneliness is to him. He knows not, what strains of melancholy that plays in his mind, but yes his heart moves to hear and feel the music, which he knows not.

There were days, when the eyes, had the power to weave his own world, but now, he dreads the sights that creep up in front of his eyes. A contorted world it has created, with shadows and no lights, to show him his fears and his way of the world. Yes, the frights are scary, but he knows they are not real. The mind with its instruments are out, they resent the fact that they are recognised by him, yet he knows he has to grin and bear.

His eyes, are calm, he knows for sure, the storms are surreal. His zazen has taught him the way to be calm, but the treacherous mind is out to fight. It creates the ways that things are meant to be, but who cares?

Let the storms come, let them break him to pieces, yet he will stand tall, bcoz he has killed his heart has stopped the fountain of emotions that caused him trouble. Now this ode to him, is for his loneliness.