WEEPING WILLOW..Nov 27.12.03PM

often usual ways stir me like a hot frothy cauldron

I search the blue
as if clouds of replies are meant for me

too child's heart
It struggles to trap me at every second
where I happen to be

I shall take infinite time to let my heart evolve to reality

probably child heart is a de novo trap infinitesome

may be its a source of fighting the ways
the source and track of evolution

I search and research the genesis

find too much of the thesis

but none suffices to fit into the reality crunch

I know the remedies

but wonders

if at all
it serves the purpose

but what is my purpose

I again fall to another trap

some of mine
others too intrinsic bereft of definitions

probably its the way

I am attuned to roses

whilst lilies come my way
I fail to decipher the difference
all together

my search never ends

source: Dr. Dimple.b