Gaurav Julka

The Heart can Articulate. Enunciate. Speak.

Travel, in a way is my only sheath knife.

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There is something about travel that makes me wonder
Long roads, vast oceans or infinite skies that we fall under,
Shining lights, wild nights to which we all surrender
A Shadow of life, sharp knife...those sleek memories that we render.

Moments ago, the mind was like a dead drop zone,
Some reasons entangled, while others hidden unknown
Before you realize, it turns into a trippy cyclone
You may be on your own, But you're not alone. 

Emotions that furry with tears that run down your face
Dream or Reality - Funny how they interlace
Every turn, crossroad, escalator or an open space
The Moment, a feeling that we all embrace. 

Sometimes you think its all about the people you meet
Backstreet,backseat some discrete & some elite 
and then they say love is pure and neat
Few would cheat, others make you complete.

Looking outside the window of a tinted car
those world war talks and an old guitar
Chocolate cigar and a memory scar 
I wonder if we know who we really are

All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware
It isn't surprising non rare
a travelers life is a set of experience that he shares
some are fair and the rest lands-up in despair 

Weird moment it is, when you can’t find a theory to prove the practicality of life.
Travel,in a way is my only sheath knife.


Written by Gaurav Julka

March 11, 2012 at 6:04 PM

Posted in #Choices, Fortitude

Tagged with , , ,

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