Moving around in time

There were a couple of young, bright but lost individuals and were accompanied by a wise guy. They were standing on a huge tower from where they could see whatever they wanted too. It was not dark, but a crimson hue had covered the sky. They looked down and up and right and left. It was still, but everything moved on its own; the people were walking, the leaves swayed on trees like a chime thousand times over, the little pathways leading to never ending destinations. They thought of everything and anything that moved or had stayed but had time involved so intricately with it that they never realized that even if it had existed. It seemed a complete eon had passed without actually seeming a single second lost.
They talked; "Time has a funny way" one of them said. In reply the wise guy spoke "True, it is all in the mind actually, as we need some sorts of vehicle to carry us around in the world dimension, the time just needs our attention from it"."The more of it you give, the slower it moves, the less you observe the faster it moves" the first one concluded. "What if we could control its flow?" inquired another one of them, to this the wise one replied "That is what exactly the great saints do, they just take control over their mind and thus they control the time", he paused and said "The time can be stopped too, just stop thinking about it". This statement by the wise guy set the others ponder, trying to understand the depth of the whole matter.
They wrote following few lines in order to conclude what they thought so far:
"The time had passed again as we thought of it. The roads of the time are too much crowded to move at will. We are forced to stay where we are, and how we are by our surroundings. There cannot be time travel unless the road clears up, until all dependencies resolved. But the day we do so an anoetic stillness will consume us".

A free mind

There was a boy. He did whatever he liked, never listened to anyone and never took advice. But yes he observed, and he did observe the slightest of the stir. He believed in being original, being his own. He thought of himself very highly, loved everything he did and thus never questioned his conscience. To his near ones he was an obstinate and a highly egoistic boy. He grew up on these beliefs of his, strengthening every aspect of his creance with every question that life brought. He never believed he was wrong.
Until sometime, something strange happened. No one can describe the strangeness. But from then onwards the boy lost his self. He started to dream. He started being carried away by his feelings. He suddenly felt jealousy. He suddenly thought what would the world think. He lost his confidence and could no longer distinguish between right or wrong. He could only see his mind wandering over one thing. There was nothing more that bothered him, but just that. And that made him feel frustration, anger and loneness of the magnitude he had never felt in his life. He called it love.
It took a long time for him to get back, realize what is happening around him. To restore his self being. And then he thought, is he such an weak character that he can be thrown out of balance by the just simple human emotions. He tried to figure out the answers and to find a new self. It was very difficult. Nothing made sense to him from the new perspective he had grown by now. Instead he realized the whole idea of self discovery that he had been so much proud of is nothing but just the pursuit itself. He could never find an answer but the way to find the answer.
In his new mind he had a lot of things cleared up, sorted out. But he did regret one thing. He had lost the compassion he had in him earlier while making the new the self. He started to care less about the others, he started to accept that no one is for the other but for own self. Now his mind did not have any fixed point to think from but an arbitrary conscious which he felt was too much of an hard work to keep afloat. He wondered, is that it? Do all the questions he had have this answer. So long he did not want to learn this fact. Just ignoring it, but as he was always; never listened to others. And now faced a strong reality: Life is nothing more but pure hard work and attention to detail, everything else that goes around is set automatically. In fact he thought even having fun, enjoyment or pleasure did require a strong conscious mind, and he could no longer afford to let his mind free. He said to himself, a free mind cannot be trusted, it is bound to go wrong; how so ever the way may seem right at that point of time. But he still loved his free mind.

Fluky

Hold tight
Nothing missing
Look around
Pupils listen
Can you listen?

In my dreams, I'm dying all the time
Then I wake it's kaleidoscopic mind

Gentle impulsion
Shakes me, makes me lighter

We run around in circles
When circles are kept in larger squares

They've got tricycles in skirts
This is a mouth that needs religion

I'm breaking out
Last chance to lose control!

An Envoi

Creativity simplified
Is perspicuity amplified.
The clarity transformed,
Becomes ingenuity reformed.

Eccentricity is critical;
Display has to be trivial,
Poetry is barony;
The acres are euphony.

Constraints resolved;
Are runes evolved,
Poetry is aesthetics;
The object is metrics.

Drudgery's trace;
Gives a daedal grace,
Poetry is to weave;
The needle's to heave.

Serendipity favors
Luckiest of them all,
Poetry is gamble;
Wager the imagination's parable!

Avēre

Arcane contemplation;
The thought such
Required a culmination;
Am I a human too much?

Water and Cloth, I require so much;
Love and Seduction, I indulge so much;
Spare is what I needn't ,
Care is what I don't.

Exonerate me, I may see;
Reverberate it, I may remember.
Make me assiduous, remove the resentment
And make me tender.
But will that serve the purpose?

Alacrity I love, Pulchritude I adore;
And humans have the most of them both.
Void is what that never fills;
And that, adds frills.

I am a human too much!

Growing Up?

Sincerity is a chore that we perform every day. Honesty is a conscious constant effort, like hiking up your pants when you don't have a belt. Love is the nearest street corner to your house, you see it every day and you pass it by, always reminded, always there for the taking. Truth is brushing your teeth, you can force it, fake it, or mean it, but if you get it done eventually you'll come to like it.

Wonder why it took me so long to realize this! Wonder why I seemed to go round and round but never to the point! It's more of a perfect day today rather than just any other day! Its worthless stretching and rebounding every time like a rubber band, but invaluable staying like a long and calm thread. You just need to stop and clean up the mess around.

And now I feel like lying down and wondering, what had happened, what had got a hold on me. Was I so weak? Was I so stupid? But I will probably never get an answer, or maybe I just grew up.