High

I'm traveling back in time,
In a bicycle that flies, To a colourful land,
Where time travels fast, fears don't last,
I'm climbing up the ladder, to a place called HOME….

Across the window, an Utopia, Roads laid on slope,
Women always in shades, Men in shorts,
The legs always walked, Eyes that never blinked,
The vision always blurred, Yet clear too, to see through the truth….

The colour of the sky varied throughout my stay,
Each suit to the emotions I carried on,
Black when I'm dark, Blue when I'm on road,
Yellow when I'm warm, I could never escape this land's charm….

She kept talking, In my ears, All her plans,
Her wishes, while the song played on,
I wish to only travel, I, all the mountains and seas,
Barren lands and green fields, all to find my real Home….

I dreamed of always staying in a high mountain pass,
Where we could touch the clouds, hear birds chirp,
Breathe Oxygen and get high, climb high and forget the lows,
But I walked backwards, contemplated, When will I live a dream that just lasts….

Home of the past, I smiled with my eyes closed,
I sneezed, I heard the track in jukebox changed,
I opened my eyes, everyone around me looked same,
Like my reflection, Past always good, I smiled with a tear drop…

Home of the future, I won't enter, it is not the fears,
But the surprises, I wish not to miss the kicks & thrills,
I won't stay here for long, I must bid adieu,
I opened my eyes again, I felt my journey enlightening….

I by now understood, she didn't get any of my ramblings, I ask,
How can you hear me from plains, when I'm high,
I shouted at you to climb up, though I know you couldn't hear,
You kept shaking your head, while I again started my climb….

by Parivallal Swamy

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