#WritcoPoemPrompt61
We always plan a life like a wonderful painting,
But sometimes, we somehow paint a foggy landscape.
Fools will lay still like a rock and never stop complaining.
But the keen will stand up and paint over a prettier shape.
The song sung on a bamboo stick was enjoyable !,
was I a wandering singer?
The picture draw on the sand with my finger was beautiful,
was I a wandering painter ?
The dance stepped on the dark leaf forest was adorable,
Was I a Wandering dancer ?
The syllables wrote in the desert was elevated,
was I a wandering Writer?
Hearty rhythms deployed, though I move miles without form!
In that eloquent loneliness, I, but hesitated tremendously in the crowd !
A sadness enveloped through the dark hours of night !
Purposeful turns happened in path when gathered souls seen resting all around !
With that assistance of Inner eye , a travel was made eclipsed through the air!
A phenomenal difference l feel apart from them was that-
I can't memorise a form descending,
so I am perfectly alien in the deep routed earth !,
All I want is a form, a stature !
Either long or short, beautiful or ugly,
Good or bad, rich or poor;
Either knowledgeable or ignorant,
with happiness or sadness,
A life, which can emerge and...