If you ever wish to know who you are,
Look at your company.
See what you will do
When your life falls and you are in agony.

Take a stroll, a place or two
See how your body will hold
The way you act and talk;
Show your disciplined mold.

You don't need to look for progress
Your result will show it.
Your comprehension of hard times,
Tell the mindset you've built.

You thoughts and ideas
Embrace the way you talk,
How you treat others,
Or even the way you walk

And in no time should you need,
An appraiser or critic.
All you need is a mirror and mind,
And an idea to stick.

And how would you live your life?
When no rules exist, how could you be
Where would you check your views
To whom would you run for clues?

You lay rules for all life; to live
A grid line on what and how to be
Not an inch your ideals bend
And no broader your wits extend.

But I don't just mean that you're strange
Every reach in history builds your range
But break your limits for once,
Let your instincts run amok; advance.

A leaf finally falls, with path is guided by the wind.
Neither can it go far away, nor near the tree.

An apple doesn't fall far from a tree.
And I assume the leaf is jealous for it only goes where the gale lets it be.

I opened that notebook again,
After ages I picked my pen.
Pressed strength on my wrist,
Gave my hand a gentle twist.

Scribbling through, I went on
In the world where ink lace spun.
But it was different from what I knew,
This ink was of a different hue.

And I flipped the pages back
A glimpse of me in the ink stained rack
The letters were bolder, deeper even
They held power higher than I now sustain.

And so I closed my notebook again,
It's ink wasn't in my own pen.
And I closed the lid once more
Let it sit where it was, before.

At 6 o'clock on a Friday, I saw her.
Through the window, blocks away.
To and fro in her wooden swing,
She showered my soul's dry bay.

No care for the world, she sat there
This window blocked half my sight
Though distant, her miniature figure,
Felt cradled in my sight.

The sunset glistens her hazel eyes,
They shine as she parts her hair.
Yet time stood still as I watched her there,
A fleeting dream caught in the air.

Great luck, I must have
For your gallery came in view.
There laid a similar face
That at dawn, my mirror drew.

I looked at every nook and cranny,
Even zoomed in the pitted dust.
By hook or crook, as they say
With every measure I must.

I saw no pictures there,
No proof of your presence at all.
Only your name echoed
In antique cups and dusty hall.

Yet I knew it was yours,
My devotion wasn't merely a cue.
Here I gloss at just your name
In this Gallery made for You

She stood in the field of Violets.
A distressed lady in war.
While others charged in the battlefront,
Only I noticed her, from afar.

She was enraged, with dreadful eyes,
Murmured words I didn't hear
A cluster of sunken syllables
Rose a song too hard to bear.

Forgiveness, O Damsel of Violet
Release me from these cries
Let me sing a song so dear
For those hazel eyes.

Trust me O Wrathful maiden,
No harm was ever planned.
Yet here I stand, entranced by you,
Still spellbound where I stand.