The Last Lost-Wood

The Last Lost-Wood

One Evening day I went out,
to breathe some fresh air,
I was dumb and restless,
Needed some time to freak out,

I did a little stroll around an Aisle,
To sudden change of my mind,
And ran down the lonesome lanky street,

The sun was about to set,
The cloud was hovering around,
If I'm not wrong I might get wet,
Just can't get to wait,

I wonder about that the typical sound,
created by thunder,
was it was some omen,
or gimmick by nature,
to every creature

I walked further and searched ,
for the path to my friend's home,
Been there few days ago,
And soon I almost forgot,

An voidness is far better than deviousness
and more I walked,
More I get lost,
And so I arrive at the world of Lost-Wood

Thankfully, I'm lost at first place,
Still can move back to my burrow,
Albeit the excruciating and scanty scent of timber,
Holds me right there to vent through sorrow,

This enchanting beauty I couldn't reckon then,
As I was lost in my-self,
A true sense of self-belief,
flowed through my veins,

I took longest nail of my fingers,
and did small ticklish contact of thumb to little finger,
The sound articulated was soothing and intact,
In fact I poise to move forward,

So, I couldn't succumb toward path,
Right, wrong or anonymous who knows,
out of my curiosity and perseverance,
What I found is new Gateway to The Last Lost-Wood.

--Rajesh Kumar--