The wanderer has put down the pen for a long time now. The world has just trapped the wanderer in its entangled roots. She tried escaping.., she tried reaching out for the pen many a times.. But she was carried away by the sweet currents of the astringent lakes..by the stardusts in humanoid forms..,by the kites which caressed the scarlet skies, by the autumn winds and by the lamenting winters. She wished for her feather, which gave her the power to fly, which gave her the power to pierce hearts, which has won for her a number of battles. But she was carried away. She received many seeds while she wandered through routes unseen by human eyes.., she conceived them.., carried them in her soul, nourished them with her tears and amused them with her smiles. But she forgot to give them life, for the life force resided in that ink dipped feather and manifested through her fingertips. She felt lonely in the crowd of love and joy showered on her. She was like that acorn seed who was always afraid to fall down to the ground. She was scared, she was scared of the world, this beautiful world which transformed into the malignant beast at times..She hasn’t meet the beast yet, but has heard stories about this beast. And once she has sneaked in through this beautiful labyrinth and through its silvery cracks has seen the shadow of this beast. The beast, which resides in the sweet side of humanity, and its spit which objectifies human beings and make them into grey dark shadows craving for personal pleasure who disguises themselves in silvery armors. She was scared, she wanted support, she felt weak to lift the feather again for she feared that she won’t be able to do it. She feared that she might be conceived by the beast and ultimately become a part of the beast. Then it rained in her inner terrain, the rain brought hope, the rain brought the cure, it brought the secret weapon to slay the beast. And it was to built her own happy fort.., just like the rain whispered to her. Built your happy fort..and keep the beast in it…For the unexplored fields and meadows are all hers.., for her they were the nurturers…her guiding angels…She freed her voice and hid it inside her inked feather…locked up the beast in happiness and continued her journey to the unperceivable grasslands lined with daisies and buttercups, wishing to find the lily fields.., while the beast roared from the fort..that “she was a coward”. But its voice was muffled by the fleece of happiness which binded the walls of the fort and her pen has started to sing sweet melodies again…because the spring was back again.