There he runs

There he runs,
Away from the crippling winds of hatred,
Blowing away in unconstrained fervour,
Befalling upon his faith, mercilessly,
All trees of affection,
Revelling in his agony at realising,
Love is but, a beautiful illusion.

There he runs,
Away from the enchanting garden of thorns,
Where he had, thus far, laid in languor,
Little realising how his joy and blood,
Sucked out, unknowingly, unwillingly,
Sustained his nemesis to further his suffering.

There he runs,
Away from the dark seas of dark people,
Seconded by the gray clouds of the gray millions,
All rejoicing the loneliness of the singular pod,
In the vast desert of sorrow,
Waiting and wishing to crush it,
Beyond irrevocable dimensions.

Oh!! Look, where he has now come,
Look at him.

There he runs,
Into her loving and protecting arms,
Her iridescence enough to envelop
His fathomless darkness,
Her caring touch enough to heal
His boundlessly bleeding blues;
Her embraces enough to enflame,
His long doused fire,
Her presence enough to replace,
His apathetic Guardian Angel.

There he runs,
Into her concocted world,
His kingdom come within reach at last.
Running with her hand in his,
Breathing in those winds of companionship,
So softly caressing his bruised cheek;
Savouring the gardens of emotions,
So tenderly embalming his abused feet;
Drinking of the seas of affection,
So fondly soothing his parched throat.

There he runs,
With her by his side.
Their laughter, resonating together,
Reverberating through that world,
Enriching its fineness,
Augmenting its nobility,
Chiseling its beauty,
Revealing how lovely,
That gift of love was.

There he runs,
Matching his steps with her,
Finally, as free as a bird,
Prepared to soon, fondle the sky;
No longer bothered about
The God who slumbered with His eyes open.

There he runs,
United with his soul mate,
Into the dimension of love at last.
Immersed in the honey of mirth, look,
There he runs, there he runs.......