Don't call me no hero,
Don't call me no saint.
Don't give me no hope,
Don't give me no pain.
Don't call me no angel,
Don't box me in a name;
Don't bless me no ego,
Don't give me no blame.

Caricatures from a window seat,
Dancing in myriad rays of morning sun,
The road extends on and on,
Onward to home and an infinity beyond.

Between the talks and the walks,
Much is learnt, much is lost,
Hopes rain on, an optimist dreams,
The path leads on to a brighter hue,
Faith reaffirms life, in flames of brilliant blue.

Like a lone bird flying homeward,
We flap on, between light and darkness,
Making impressions out of illusions,
Our dreams become the compass of our ambitions.
We become a sum of all,
Of aspirations, prejudices and moral contexts,
The devil of our nightmares,
The gods of our eternal joys.

The day ends, in crimson delight,
The birds fly back home,
Kissing goodbye to the fading light.
Of promise kept and milestones crossed,
A mental note made,
a deep smile wafts through the soul.

The waters simmer through,
The waves bring in the colors of horizon closer,
A calm settles through,
A slow breeze of content blows,
Soaking up all that's left of a crimson sun.

Stand by me

Stand by me under the rain,
Hold my hand while I hide my tears.
Wade me through my fears,
Wash me off my pains,
Stand by me, as I fade in your words,
Stand by me, as my world fades into yours.

The Truth about january.

The solstice passes,
and the light begins it's return,
slow, cold and bare and pure.

Bitten by the cold and shaken out of our veins,
hope, like the evergreen,
wears it's coat of frost,
as if it were made of diamonds.