The Scars

He loved mysteries, they eluded him.

He loved his work, it deserted him.
He had his views regarding the world.
He had his dreams.
He loved Virtue, He loved Grace, He loved Elegance, He loved Arrogance.
He loved things which posed a threat to him. He loved their bites.
He was all about recklessness, Nothing had ever stopped him.
He was also about Perfection, Nothing ever escaped him.
He loved his city.
He loved music.
He grappled with time, He tugged it to and fro.
He didn't have friends, He called them brothers.
He didn't call 'Them' Teachers, He respected 'Them' as Gurus.
He had his weaknesses, He trusted too much.
He never bargained, He never bantered, He never argued.
He had his principles, they evaded him.
He hated the word 'no'
He didn't have enemies.
He adored silence, just like silence adores a morgue.
He respected money, but it still came behind work.
He was never bound by conventions, but never won against his emotions.
He had his circle of influence, He didn't harbor prejudice.

He went into the storm full throttle

He is lost, mutilated and Dead.

But . . .