convicted of life

I made new journeys on the old roads,
On old journeys I found new roads too;
In empty sentences I put some words,
With empty sentences made stories two.

One never written, the other never told;
I’d started living with the characters,
Little did I know their lives were on hold,
For I never put them into word structures.

All these years I had been busy living,
Did nothing when there were things to do,
The sleepless nights I spent shivering,
I enjoyed them most when I caught flu.

Every day the dreams took me on a new high,
Every time I was stealing moments from time,
One night I spent without a wink of the eye
To commit that atypical innocent crime.

But the prison of life awaited me and I was caught
I was convicted of having too much of life
In just a couple of years that were so fraught
With whirlpool of joys and with idiocy so rife.

I bathed in sun and got baked in rain,
Every emotion I experienced in one go.
In silence I said things, loved in vain,
But I still climb this precipitous vale of life,
And from it one day these stories will echo.