A boy poses as a wayfarer of this world

A boy poses as a wayfarer of this world
There are innumerable wayfarers in this world
longing for recovery like a boy's pose on a damp
canvas. but, lately had I understood that creations
are sometimes washed off their normal
conditions. the sky indeed dwindles, the wall
breaks and the city plummets too.
forgetfulness is fluttered in the wind
& everyone sniffs the fumes.
in my country, loneliness owns a cottage in a boy's
heart and desertion blends him into a man easily.
each-day, he fights in the larking wisp
of the city. once outside, the sky floods him with
lethal intention. his eyes travel through
borders of questions & if he could show his heart,
it would indicate the void of a mute nomad.
yet with no words, he looks.
every day, his body seems to have forgotten
gestures. but today, he's grateful
to be caught in a glimpse,
with all his words huddling out of his hand,
please have him,
have him,
again.