A traveler of this world,
I hunt for answers,
.
For the choices I make,
For the thorns in my ways,
For the blades the hurt,
For the stones that hit.
.
For the questions that haunt,
For the thoughts that knock,
For the soul that screams,
For the skull that burns.
.
I am waiting alone
for a voice that answers.
.
Under the pouring rain,
Besides the shivering wind,
Along the scorching sun.
.
I still stand Holding hopes
searching for a voice that answers.

© Pooja Waghela