The boy ran, his attempts went to vain,

His body cried, emotions drain

Am I the only one to go through it he thought

Reasons blurred, decisions warped, life came to an inexplicable halt.

The boy began to rewind his life, events and thoughts more alike

Where could have I gone wrong he said, gone with the flow and world in sight

With more thought something exploded in him

Truth has become vain, lying a fashion in light.

What is wrong with the world, the society and its norms

Laden on young and olds, destructive at core,

Builds nothing in the ends, gives lifetime of remorse

Nations and creeds, Races and breeds

Create turmoil among themselves, when there is no need

What do we know of it? why is it made like this?

A demystification is needed

Of the human rules, as to why one has to pay and one gets it free

Survival of the fittest they say, it it really true?

A grain of sand doesn’t seem to follow,

Where the rocks decay and turn to it

Is a life form really different than everything else in the universe

The sun, the moon, the river, the sands, all shattered across the multiverse

A donkey is born, grows older, becomes bolder and works like infinity stone holder

Eats all it can, bangs in Caravan, populates every instance.

How is it any different than us?

Same culture, Same derivable food, same calculable living

Yet, we consider ourselves as an advanced being.

Is it the mental ability to solve problems?

Or the nastiness to create every single one of them

Our intuition has made us the alpha beings of this era, without the might to rule it.

It has to be something else that is within us,

Something that’s unchallenged,

Irreplaceable from the fellow beings, not humans but often seen.

The ability to go beyond dimensions

Beyond space and matter, where time is not being born

How do we portray it, how do we touch

Is what it takes to being humans.

The boy came back to his senses

something’s different he got from the experience

Of what he had known of this world

His ability to tolerate the snorts

Can I be what it takes to be the human of my thoughts

My true self of who I am,

Not a mere creature that lives, works and dies

But a conscious being below a tree,

Of my troubles, which will set me free.