When I dream, I walk in clouds..

When I dream,
I walk in the clouds.
And leave this terrain of endless doubts.

When I dream,
I am alone.
And pass my time whistling some lost tune.

When I dream,
I am awake.
Lost in thoughts of some lovely days.

When I dream,
I wander off to places.
With lovely rivers and rabbit chases.

When I dream,
I drench in this blissful rain.
So I drift off to this slumber,
Time and again.

When I dream,
I dive in oceans.
Far away from the daily notions.

When I dream,
I walk in clouds.
Never wanting to return to this worldly chaos.

Somedays

Some days you gotta be alone,
Some days you've to be strong.
Some days nothing would seem right,
Some days you gotta put up a fight.
Some days nothing will matter,
Some days your hope might shatter.
Some days the sun won't shine as bright,
Some days it'd seem like an endless plight.
Some days you'll have company,
Some days you won't even have a penny.
Some days you'll be alright,
Some days it's just a dreamless night.
Some days are just like any other days,
Some days you'll see those hopeful rays.
Some days never end,
Some days go on till time bend.
Some days you lose,
Some days you gain.
Some days you miss it,
Some days you catch that happy train.
Some days nothing will be enough,
Some days in a moment you light up.
Some days it seems like never,
Some days you can day dream forever.

Some days...

Late nights

I have always loved late nights more than early mornings,
Where there's peace and solace for company.
The world lies snoring and you lay awake watching the stars and capturing it's beauty in your eyes.
Alone with your thoughts and dreams to take over.
To introspect and find your peace within.
That's the beauty of nightfall.
It's the night owls territory,
where we rule.
And glide in into that sleepless slumber.
 

The Things That Count

By: Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Now, dear, it isn’t the bold things, Great deeds of valour and might, That count the most in the summing up of life at the end of the day. But it is the doing of old things, Small acts that are just and right; And doing them over and over again, no matter what others say; In smiling at fate, when you want to cry, and in keeping at work when you want to play— Dear, those are the things that count. And, dear, it isn’t the new ways Where the wonder-seekers crowd That lead us into the land of content, or help us to find our own. But it is keeping to true ways, Though the music is not so loud, And there may be many a shadowed spot where we journey along alone; In flinging a prayer at the face of fear, and in changing into a song a groan— Dear, these are the things that count. My dear, it isn’t the loud part Of creeds that are pleasing to God, Not the chant of a prayer, or the hum of a hymn, or a jubilant shout or song. But it is the beautiful proud part Of walking with feet faith-shod; And in loving, loving, loving through all, no matter how things go wrong; In trusting ever, though dark the day, and in keeping your hope when the way seems long— Dear, these are the things that count.