A silent thirst, a quiet road, a gentle turn speaks to the starlit world An old sign by the side appears in the view Leading to an unknown locale Standing there I gaze into the mist The thirst bites, it hurts The signpost looks odd, though familiar I pick up its trail, not knowing where it lead I find myself on an old battered path My instinct senses a vague familiarity My breath quickens, the thirst shrieks The frail limbs buckle down And I fall down on the dusty road. The dust is ruffled, it rises in protest My falling body is engulfed in its flaring hands 'I submit, I give in,' I say They withdraw their hands and as I lie on the dusty road They empathize, and stroke my eyes to sleep. When I wake up, the mists had risen long ago In front of my eyes stands a building in pristine white A vague familiarity turns into a shocking revelation For before me stood the school of my yore. The thirst is quenched, life finds a way afresh The wanderings in the ...