Foolish dreamer, wake.
Your passion seems pretentious,
Your zest incomplete.
What has time done to you?
You echo meaninglessly.
Ambition has fled you.
Where is the fire,
Of your ideas and thoughts?
Where will you search
For that part of you?
For you have no will and
You have forgotten yourself.
You just exist.
You aren't living.
Oh, where is the fire,
That will ignite your passion for life?
What do you dream
Day in and out?
And why do you weep,
At things that never were or will be?
If you're a lunatic,
You were crazier earlier.
Shake out of your sleep,
And search within and without for your fuel.
(Written in a very disturbed state of mind before the IIT-JEE.)
