Afraid of the sun,
cowering behind clouds of doubt,
sand castles built through life,
with chambers full of dreams,
Lost in an imaginarium,
hidden away from reality,
eroded by the same salty waters, that,
as tears, strengthen them,
enough for us to live in.
Shrouded in darkness,
for the speed of dark,
may well be the speed of thought,
or so may be portrayed.
Messy in a world,
to each, his own,
happy, shall it seem from the outside,
while we struggle to get the sand,
out of places it shouldn’t be in.
By: Viraj Belgaonkar