It’s often also noticed,
From the shackles on the psyche
The embodied mind tries to break free
Thirsting for the unknown and
In search of a mysterious hope
The instincts are on a perpetual spree

Along the way,
On the path of life
The flowers that have bloomed blithely
Which of these do I filch,
To adorn it in the mind precisely

Am afraid,
Have no inkling of this complexity,
Unravelling it, perhaps too naive to know
Whom to embrace as the beloved and
Whose affection to forgo