In the hour of noon when the sun was at its zenith,
Amid his seclusion he was struggling with his thoughts.
Thoughts which would make anyone’s day gloomy,
Thoughts which ponder upon him a sheet of desolation.
Thoughts which unable him to look beyond himself,
Thoughts more dreadful than a ghost.
Amid his seclusion, his shadow being his lone listner,
Shadow which is detachable to him or he is detachable to his shadow.
On the verge of drowning into himself, searching for the ray of new dawn,
Searching for the happiness, the call of hope,
That will Succour him to swim among his choking thoughts.
And there he was sitting all this noon, juggling with the thoughts,
Or rather the thoughts were juggling with him.
Thoughts playing with his countenance, creating a wrath over him,
A sudden plunge of ecstasy ran through him, kindling him to rejoice.
Breaking the shackles of woe,
A sense of tranquility filling his surroundings.
Reinvigorated he stands there, like a warrior who fought the darkness of his thoughts,
Winning a battle that many are still a victim of,
Bleeding with endeavor, a drop of sweat and the wisdom of a revived being were his trophies,
Amid bedlam, with those flickering eyes, he stood with a grin,
Akin to conqueror he stands with a flag of victory over his demons.