My life is the witness of the fact that it’s the best feeling to walk after somebody. Idolize a man, and you’ll know what all in you is left undone.
In the densely wooded streets of your life,
Every scent, every feel, has a source behind,
Then from where you scrounged this fickle sense,
Without a source, that sources your numbness,
And the world seems to be crowded out.
On the roads on which you walked alone,
One day, he graces you with his existence,
And there you stand, right after him,
You gaze at the way he lifts his steps,
Like all his flaws are crowded out.
With intent or without, things fall from him,
The things, themselves, sink in the sands,
Walking over which he passes by,
You look at what he dropped, and think,
They might have been crowded out.
You advance to pick his belongings up,
And when you take, a slight fright you face,
But he glances back, and proudly smiles,
And his generous smile says it all,
The resentments of the earth are crowded out.
You see him wending his way out of the woods,
You smell his scent, and watch his shadows,
A victorious man walks, seeking the sun of his life,
He reminds you to keep yourself above him,
And out of your head, you aren’t crowded out.