Sunday, 12 May 2013


So all stories melt away like snow,
Before the heart finds its abode,
The body has played out its show.

It is not often we find truths,
It is not often we find paths,
And it is not often we live.

In a trance between life and death,
We float in the chambers of hope,
We live to let live, We live to let climb.

The steep stairs of faith narrows,
The road ahead seems dark, with time,
It is then you rekindle your fire.

The fire was born with you,
He lived all his life with you,
But do you know his essence?

The ones who knew found paths,
The ones who knew radiated shine,
The ones who knew kept it burning.

A story is meant to melt,
With a bit of fire rekindled,
It melts quicker, but burns brighter.

So all stories melt away like snow,
Before the body has played its show,
Let your heart find the abode.


  1. So beautiful! Resonates so well with me!
    Thank you.

    1. Thanks a lot for flying by and for taking the time to comment. :)

  2. Again so inspirational and yearning for finding real truth. Why are we here on this earth, what is life for....

    1. Life is a constant search to find ourselves in my view. We could be a difference and make a difference. Thanks for the comments. Loved it. :)

  3. I enjoyed the imagery and metaphors throughout. Stunning poetry.