Musings of a wayfarer

He had been sitting there for an hour or more,
unbeknownst to him,

rolling the pen in his hand,
trying to figure out the puzzles of the conundrums he was facing in his late teens,
at least a decade earlier, from when regular men face the midlife crisis.
Nights were being spent dreaming,
Yet his eyes were staring at the ceiling;
days had become long periods of musings,
about questions. Questions of 'obstruction', at least for his peers.
Adding to the long pile of challenges he faced,

There was one more challenge that he was confronted with
He was no more interested in the Mundane now.
The Streets he used to own

became what Krypton was for Superman.
PLAGUE, which infected him whenever he would walk on them.
The discussions he used to engage in now became estranged for him.
The vicinity he always ran away from,
They were a glimpse away now,
The vicinities of SOLITITUDE.
THE valleys for seclusion now longed to embrace him.
The questions now haunted him like a prey being followed.
deep into the valleys, trapped at the end of the roads,
eventually leaving no option but to confront your hunter,
Looking into the eyes and fighting them;
The only change in the scenario of the Young Adult was,

that the questions haunted him, rather than hunting,
As the pillars  of subjectivity were yet to be broken,
The light of objectivity is to be questioned,
The paths of rationality, to be scrutinized in the court of belief;
He wanted to scream, but words did not help him.
Bowed, he cried to himself;
I traded the reality for thy to absorb the rationality.
He had scars, had left marks, gone far in the search,
paths which were charted,
But roads uncharted,
Rules decided,

Yet maps discarded,
He knew the destination,
not sure of the one who guided,
Dwindling down the steep road,

With shrines of pleasures, he collided.
It has been known forever,
Whoever lacked a purpose,
down the road a light, he sighted,
causing him to be excited,

losing the ultimate vision.
Thus chanted the road on the arrival of the guest, scarred and scary
Oh, you! A Man of Pleasures, lacking purpose,
less delighted, yet thy soul ignited,
Turn back from this valley, lest thou art become frightened by what thou encounter ahead.
That is when Khalid realised that the path down the road is always deep,
The curve ahead is always steep,
The blessing lies in those awakened dreams,
The awkward sleeps.
Men who care were always on your back,
turning away was one of the tests,
Wisdom is under those torn hats,
gray hair sitting on grounded slabs,
He did not, but asked the one,
Who had never been in despair and was sad.
The answers to the questions can be found out, he realised,
without going into anguish.
Musing became his chore,

following the path of someone he looked up to,
But doing it in the dark and in seclusion gave him fulfillment now.
The Journey Continued,

He was still pleased and content, but now something bigger came to his attention,

He wanted to put it all on the line,
Both hands on deck,
But the Flinch was pulling him away,
Yet he could not be stopped anymore,
As he rose now, as a man of principles.