Somewhere in the air is the fragrance of flowers, music of happiness..
weather is romantic, little warm inside don’t know why ,in winter morning..
my eyes engrossed in observing people getting in and out of ..
My heart racing on the railway track, as always..
I have to run, I have to race, I have to reach on time ~ heart always says.
Green tall trees and muddy lakes, sky full of clouds and birds twitting for the routine sake..
Live buildings and dead farms, may be the smoke in air also has some charm..
Temple away tempting the soul, school’s over flooded with little angels making the scene cheerful and peaceful more..
Small towns and villages passing by , welcoming me with its aroma , still I am feeling nothing, don’t know WHY?
People Travelling are going somewhere, awaiting the destination with eager glare..
Mine is the same route, same time always and the same destination which is in site nowhere..
sometimes in early morning,
Sometimes little late..
I am always travelling regardless the time, weather , regardless presence/ absence of daily mates..
It’s always urgent to meet deadlines,
It’s always necessary to work up late nights,
It’s always priorities ripping me apart,
Don’t know somewhere its dead, long ago which was something breathing, pumping, acting like a heart..
I have no time for celebrations, no time for fun..
Working is only reason that keeps me always on fire ,
and always brain whistles you still have chances to win , make quick move and run and never feel tired..
No touch excites me, of a male or female,
No desire activates my hormones, whether a feel lusty or tender..
Slowly I have forgot my existence, my soul and my gender …
Only what I remember is…
late… Late.. Late..
You are late once again!
Run.. Run … Run…
You are late once again…
may be one day this race will end..
and again I will feel rain drops, heat and cold..
And again I will cherish the beauty of mother nature..
And again I will feel special about someone’s touch..
And again I will b alive…
So alive…
That I can race once again …
{ That’s all which makes me alive… may be… so much alive…}
- a daily commuter’s rage..
