Awoken From a Dream

Awoken from a dream,

Does he find himself,

Marooned on the very land,

Which in his reverie,

Was so rich, So plentiful,

So abounding, And so utopian

The numbness , followed by distress , set in
with nowhere to seek shelter,
and no one to ask the
several enigmatic queries:

‘Where to , did those green pastures
upon which the cattle grazed at dawn, wane?

Where was the gentle chatter
of the stream gushing by
to which he had woken every morrow?

How long has the bastion,

Which for so long

Vaunt the flag of the invincible been derelict?
What mighty power doused
the fire that he had kindled in his hearth.?

Was it the Lord who took away what He bestowed?

Or was it he himself who let go of what he had?
had he not justified the flair, gifted?

Did he lose faith in Himself?

Or did He lose faith in him,
Was He really there,

Was the dream indeed his reality,

That he could no longer swagger.

Or the reality his dream,

That he wants to wake from’.

Disillusioned and desperate does he writhe ,

Under the very tree which had shaded him thus far,

far too engrossed in his own thought

even to apprehend the law of mother nature ,
that what bloomed once must wither now,
that the pastures will grow back in time ,
that he had been inside the bastion for far too long ,
to have been seeing what was happening to the facade,
that the fire was no longer pertinent
 as he had thrived through the harsher days.
that the chatter of the stream was always there
and he just had to heed to it.
That it was not a dream,
it was nature taking its course.