Two years back on a lonesome road,
I was walking alone as I always did,
The lights were out
And my vision was a little bleak.
Dawn it was and sun was still,
The world slept,
As I walked again,
I changed path,
Went here and there.
With a little vision,
I savored the flavor (horizon).
Far ahead of me, I saw him,
He walked with a small little wood stick,
Curious, I got,
Paced to him,
Mon Dieu, it was him.
He was Jeremie,
Sure he was,
Wisest of all in those times,
Though blind and often in a shabby attire.
I know I was fond of him,
When I knew it was him,
We talked about politics, religion and even his mysterious life,
We talked about a dozen more things,
Jeremie was patient,
He preached me well.
One good thing he taught me about,
I don't know why I didn’t know it before,
He said "Money is an illusion
Aristocrats don't exist,
For thoughts carve the real wealth."
He then stopped, took a deep breath and started again
"People kill people,
And pretend to love,
Rich seek laughter,
And poor never miss it."
And then he got up and walked alone once again,
As the morning sun shone over the world,
Jeremie was my only real teacher,
Few words he said.
Changed my pseudo grace.
YOU ARE READING
what about you?
PoetryIf you have a heart at all, and if you see the pain of the sufferer, you shall find this work thought provoking, but if you are a cold hearted homo sapien, I assure you these would just be some words arranged in a fashion so as they appear intricate...
