The Shooting Star

The boy goes to the hill top with a candle in his hand to light his path
Oh how funny! With the winter winds not missing a chance to put the fire out
And the murmuring I hear, Couldn't you leave me alone until i make my wish
Such beauty is hope, hidden away in the treasure ox of his heart
Like those precious jewels, seeing the light only when the rich gather

To the top of the hill he runs, wonder what his little heart desires
Such is the beauty of dreams, they can give you wings, to fly away
Away from the swamps into the stars, the winds, the heights
Moon is no where to be seen, but does he falter?

I see him sitting there looking into the skies as if magic is about to happen
With every passing moment and every racing heart beat
I wonder what prayer he was reciting within
The winters are dark and the curiosity bright
What is he looking for, I wondered.

Since when have we become so dense, that we can not understand what he is waiting for
Would a rain stop him now? Darkness perhaps? Or the cold winters
If only the negativity was little, wouldn't the candle light be enough?
Wouldn't the curiosity dressed in hope and embellished in dreams suffice?

They said, the comet appears once in a 1000 years...
May be it makes the wishes come true said his heart...

Reaching omega!