Over the barren landscape of time,
Footprints of a nomad left a trail behind.
Where did he come from and where’s he off to?
The question remains unanswered, unless you read.
As the sun looked down with its piercing eyes,
A survivor emerged from the distant horizon.
Wiping the blood and sweat over his brows,
He stood there panting and coughing, dusting his robe.
At last, the wanderer had survived the sand storm of fate,
And lived through the experience to rise amidst the calm;
He’d broken free from the high-rise walls of despair.
And was caught in the turbulence of consequences as he crept;
He had struggled, in the yesteryears, through doldrums of doom,
That had imprisoned him and chained him in ruins.
Now, he moved ahead persistently paving his own road,
With his will that burned frantically he lit up his pathway;
Over the years, he had lost many a things,
Some were sacrifices, which he cheerfully gave,
But few he’d made with a bleeding heart in excruciating pain.
And some were snatched away by chance in vain.
Today, he surfaced to get back everything he’d lost,
To reclaim his life from tornadoes of yore;
All those things forbidden before will he accomplish now,
He has returned in pursuit of destiny and he’d retreat no more.