You

You are my childhood
The naive face once worn
By someone who had no
Reason but to always mourn.

You are my youth
That frivolous ambition
Praying and visiting temples
Just to get an admission.

You are my friends
Those stack of inspiring men,
From inspirational stories,
Inspiring each other time and time again.

You are my parents
The essence of compassion,
Sometimes rude, sometimes forgiving
But no one knows their satisfaction.

You are me
The wandering soul
The epitome of the past
Looking for a grassy knoll to stroll.

You take infinite forms
Sometimes an oasis, sometimes the trance
But people came back to you
Whenever they need a glance.

© Rakesh Bal.