Its coming, its coming
In silence at night,
Running as fast as the storm
Breaking through the shelves of my mind.

To some it comes in despair
To some in happiness,
But to me… it just comes
In my desperateness.

Do I have any muse?
Or do I write when I am confused?
I have yet some time to fuse
And here I am looking for clues.

They run so fast
No time to pass.
What do I write
My mind seems a deep void…

They come and go
Forming clusters of a show
Reflecting what is true
The decision is up to you…

My life only revolves around
With many different sounds.
No colours of Black or White
Only the shade Grey seems right.

I am no socialist or theorist,
A simple person following no
Pattern and taking a Risk.
Penning down my thoughts and forming a bridge
If you read, it would be my privilege.