The journey

To knock upon a door,
Knowing that no one is inside,
Trying to wake up the one,
Who acts sleeping,
To walk towards a place,
Which never exists,
Throbbing are those efforts,
Strengthless I feel, my hands and feets drooping,
Trying.... over and again with a hope,
Unsucessful though.
The desert is hot and humid,
Spread out.... vast in front of my eyes.....

And thorny is the path...
I realise the legitimacy,
that nothing can be changed,
But to change myself.....
How mean is to have my happiness unrequited,
enduring myself to make the world happy....