Nowhere does he find some light,
Pure and bright, even at night.
Yet goes ahead with a broken leg,
Lonely on roads where no one treads.
With a twisted hand and poor eyesight,
He moves ahead in this dark night.
No soul in sight or any spirit known,
The dark fork roads calling to his bone.
He moves in a trance, though his heart refused,
Shaking with fright, and confused.
That how his body goes ahead,
On paths where even not the dead tread.
But he has no choice, he has no aim.
‘cause he had been shunned and his body maimed.
He lost his care, love and fame,
Became a stranger to his own life and name.
As long it was sunny,
All had walked with him.
Then as the red sun went down,
They stopped gradually.
They just saw him walk by towards the end.
Without hope, help or a friend.
And neither did anyone offer a bed,
warmth of a fireplace or the taste of bread.
Yet he walked towards the dark, stumbled and fell…
He hurt himself and cursed like hell!…
But he remained silent, somehow it was his mistake.
That he was now a helpless wreck moving ahead without help.