The Wolf Who Could Fly

He walked all day and all night
Crossing barren plains and lush green forests.
He would spend some time looking up at the starry sky
He was the wolf who could fly.

He ventured deeper into undiscovered ground,
Looking for something of value.
When disappointment struck, he did issue an outcry
He was the wolf who could fly.

He had abandoned his bittersweet home
As he was all alone.
The thought made tears fill his eye;
He was the wolf who could fly.

He broke his journey at a green copse
For he heard familiar howls.
He hid and turned a vigilant spy
He was the wolf who could fly.

Perfectly blended in with his background,
He saw a pack of unknown capering comrades
But, was too dangerously shy;
He was the wolf that could fly.

Their beaming howls appeared strange and distant,
He was overcome by doubt and confusion.
He slowly retreated issuing a mournful sigh
He was the wolf who could fly.

His furry paws took him to the edge of land
And there he was greeted by a glinting emerald sea.
His lonely soul was no longer dry
He was the wolf who would fly.

He tread the cool, soothing water
And pondered about his life;
His past seemed cold and wry-
He was the wolf who could fly.

Everything was a vivid, taunting blur,
Every sight, every feeling, every smell.
He ruminated, wondering if he had been living a lie;
He was the wolf who could fly.

Overcome by a roaring epiphany
Which marshaled him toward the light;
He dispensed of his old ways and did comply-
He was the wolf who could fly.

Slowly and tenderly, happiness imbued his soul
Cleansing his anguished substance.
He prepared to soar the nebulous sky,
He was the wolf who could fly.

The glacial and celestial wind
Made him feel divine.
Alas, he had found what he yearned for and reality did he defy,
For he was the wolf who did fly.

An Epidemic Case Of 'Self Love' Which I Cannot Seem To Explain

Social networking websites(Facebook, that's the first thing that comes to my mind; sorry fellow Twitterers and the archaic Orkuters). We all know what they are, hell! some of us practically LIVE in it during the wee hours of some days(kudos to you, fellow idler!). They keep our heart pumping and our brain's juices and blood flowing into all the right nooks and crannies. For some of us it probably does even more, who knows(No, no no. I am not hinting at any aberrant activity one might engage in at their leisure time here. That's not my intention, not at all).

So, social networking websites. Before the celebrated arrival of  Facebook, friends of friends were strangers, relatives of friends were strangers and strangers were strangers. But times change and so has the function of social networking websites.

They do just so much for us all. We keep in touch with that one distant friend who is constantly belittling everyone else while rating his or her own popularity based on asinine internet polls , we do the same with that distant relative who we don't really care about but keep in touch because we never really took them off our friend list.  With the advent of these well developed websites, family ties and friendships have becomes more closely knit in some cases while the exact opposite has occurred in others. Conversely, a negligible portion has becomes famous while another sizable portion has embroiled itself into some particularly deep shit but, let's not go into that(excuse the language; sometimes the censorship button in my brain turns off).

Yes, now to my point(which is gradually taking a detectable form): Facebook has somehow triggered our narcissistic trait, and has accordingly introduced us to our own narcissistic side- that has so far been masked by a humble facade- which just loves to revel in recognition and appreciation. Taking photos has managed to accomplish this.

We all like taking pictures of ourselves(and occasionally others in our company) and secretly relish the fact that others see them however, no one likes to admit it. We can't help it now, can we? After all the option only exists FOR this purpose. So, we take pictures, subject it to a multitude of editing that morphs its humble, original content into something that resembles grandiosity in our heads. Then we upload it and wait for the mundane, yet arduously expected banality to begin. I am not going to restrict this act to just young girls, no; gender is almost immaterial in this case. Boys are just as indulgent in this in every bit.

 I am not saying this is wrong, I am not saying it's a crime and I am not accusing anyone of anything because if I did I'd be a 'dissembler' who reeks of sardonicism. Why be a 'dissembler' who reeks of sardonicism when I can be a relatively normal person(well, as normal one can BE in this heterogeneous world) who reeks of sardonicism?

So, narcissism. Now I am not going to go all Freud on you and quote the scientifically accepted 'definition' of that word because, let us face, you are going to get bored and use it as an excuse to stop reading this and I will end up looking like a prude(IF I haven't already). Instead, I am going to give you less fervent synonyms that don't make it sound like we have some serious medical condition: vanity, conceitedness, self-love. So, WHY is there is this sudden wave of narcissism, nay forgive me, 'self-love' that is manifesting itself in this manner? Why do we even have this side?

Well, I honestly don't know. I'll get back to you when I do.

A misanthropist is a self-loathing cynic.

Crimson Dreams

White smoke rises
In a sundry of shapes and sizes.
Th ascent ends only as soon as it had begun;
A musty, acrid smell is all that hung.
Below the wisps of white,
Shades of red and yellow come to sight.
The flames are but fluid in nature
Marking their foreboding departure.
The crimson inferno sardonically dances about,
All we can do is lament and shout.
Our stomachs churn
As they torridly burn.
Oh! how do we save them?
Can we not live up to them?
What does this mean?
Who brought forth this fiendish blaze?
We break our journey to stop and stare at
The vermillion display that resembles our darkest nightmare.
Our dreams are on fire;
The future seems abject and dire.
They burn not with passion
For  they have been stolen and put to decimation.