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.