Poetry: This Street

I am a wanderer on this street

And as such we may never meet

But if we do, let’s first greet

Before we examine each other’s feet

We are strangers on this path

With steady steps like we are on a swath

Everyone trying to dodge the day’s wrath

So we sometimes skip our daily bath

I am wailer with no tears

For I have run dry of it in past years

Just like you there with many fears

Hold on with faith, till the storm clears

I am wisher with daydreams

For myself and many with weak beams

Action is hard, when thought disperses like streams

Pursue a piece from your ruins, that you may ignore the screams

Everyone has a story to tell

Of how one or many times they fell

Belittle not their pain for they may yell

And force not people to unleash their hell

This street isn’t always 1+1 like we are told

For when grace comes, even the passer-by may pick gold

And Santa may carry not gifts but “weights” untold

So find in your hard work honour, and your story will gracefully unfold

By Mystic Wanderer

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