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The Walk
Once in the midst of a winter storm , I walked and walked.
I saw a house with a chimney coughing out black smoke
which then met the white storm and lost its identity as it first turned grey and then white.
But I Didn’t stopped and walked and walked .
The cold was now starting to numb my feet,
telling me to take refuge in the warm coffee house which said welcome on its door .
But I Didn’t stopped and walked and walked .
Walking wasn’t such a miserable task in summers,
When the cool breeze brushes your hair ,
As you walk past the children playing.
But winter was different story,
When even the solitude demands a price to be paid.
I wondered if I’d keep on walking,
Through out this winter,
Through out this life..
I felt scared
And I felt colder
But I Didn’t stopped and walked and walked .
But then came a turn which ended
In front a big dark cave .
With wild shrubs covering half its enterance
And gentle climbers hugging the curves.
There were no burning chimney
And no welcomes signs,
But my feet refused to walk.
I watched the cave for days
Waiting to see something ,but not sure what,
In years ,for the first time I stopped.
Nothing came out , nothing went in
But I still felt a presence within.
It was cold and my ankles buried In white snow
It didn’t bothered me when I was walking
But the stillness was clawing onto my flesh
So I held my cowardly heart and entered the cave
The dark was as the darkness is
But the warmth was something more than warmth
I walk and walk but met nothing but darkness
I have finally found the place to stay
But even though the warmth remained
the echo never returned
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