Winter

I am a man high on stuff usually,
Temperature fluctuations, I am oblivious of.
My body is always hot, insulated otherwise,
I am a man hot by nature, though I often cough.

Whether in presence of other warm bodies,
Or in solitude, without any human touch;
I live on like a roach, unperturbed,
Nothing really matters to me much.

But tonight, and I know why,
As chapters of my life, before me, unfold.
Even though a bottle of wine has already been downed,
For the first time in my life, I feel cold.

Refuge

Days before he died, he exclaimed,
"Why does it always take grief to bring us together!"

He's gone; his legacy, I hope , remains,
His words will stay with me always.
But I have been through phases,
Where even grief could not mend ways.

Sometimes it suffices,
To soak in some heroism,
Reality is not worth remembering,
Take refuge in benevolence and altruism.

A little less wise, a little more brave.

Weakness is death,
Inaction is a disability.
Worldly wise men, around them,
See nothing but frailty.

The power to read minds,
And know the desires within,
A tiny bit at a time, fills them with grief,
That from others,they automatically suck in.

Another vow unto his own,
This guy now takes,
If they ever try to break his speed,
He will do away with the brakes.

Nothing shall determine his life,
Not the state of others, not his age.
Shuns his fears and their griefs tonight,
Tomorrow begins the rampage.