Going On

Hardly he could see the sun

And the eyes misted by fog.

Walks and walks this frozen lad

Until the unknown terminal.

Who could he rely upon?

Accompanied by the woods.

Singing a song of folk,

Nothing but walks on and on.

All he knows is winter month.

Neither time nor the space.

Poor lad don’t even know

his arrival in the forest.

Blowing wind and rustling leaves.

Sometimes swaying of the trees.

That is all he hears of,

no matter where ever he be !

Dark and cold is what he feels

Colliding with trunk of trees

Nowhere but to the same place

He reaches with every steps.

“This must be a trap”, he says

And some times thinks, “it must be a game.”

But never he ceased his walk

Although it was a living way.

“Don’t ever stop” whispers his soul

He walks and walks and then he runs

Something catches by his foot

Still he runs without a fall.

His breathing echoes all around

But he feels no stress at all.

And gradually comes the light.

His consciousness was all found.

There his eyes are open wide

A moving fan above his head

and blanket creeps to his legs

Shivers this kid in his bed.

Turning off the fan again,

muffles in the bed and thinks

“Going On, the only thing

helped me even in my dream.”