Sore of heart

          III

In the wild, I am walking,

with path all new.

Everyone shows angst of mercy,

 true companions are few.

                     

Like a dry maple leaf,

getting blown by life’s wind.

Of my course, had few guesses,

but now I got no hint.

In the deep sky, searching,

for the star of my luck. Alas !

Echoes of cry, howl in ear,

there is nothing lick such.

HOPE, the last string,

to which I am holding.

Often amazed by, the way

my life is unfolding.