I was enmeshed
in the bushes of my thought trees
and tomorrow was the only hope for me,
and within the jungle of my wishes,
every today has been yesterdays,
as all the days gone,
present ones to come are just ‘days’ to me.

Cocooned in those yesteryears,
I counted the number of thought trees
which dragged past.
But now, I realise
that I tried to measure the measures,
as now broke loose from the cocoon
of comforting emptiness,
though I was hopeful
for leaving the past,
lingering no more.

I sure ran past from the skimpy bushes of happiness,
of emptiness in the thought woods of my cocoon,
I ran past through, to enter into another jungle,
I tried to feel the same before,
as the jungle is always the same.

Yet, it wasn’t the same,
though the days were the same,
but then cocoon and the crack of the walls
was culmination of my long deserved conclusions.

And for now,
neither do I see the cocoon walls,
nor do I see the other end of it.
This jungle would possibly never have it’s ends,
and I shall saunter without directions,
between endless ‘bushes’,
only to look for the wall.

The hope tells me to look forward,
perhaps a crevice in that invisible and invincible walls,
would lead me to yet another jungle
and the other invincible walls.