In search of "Direction" (incomplete)

There's a question that has stayed with me for the last few years, and I am yet to find an answer to it. What is it that I want to be or want to do in my life is perhaps a crude portrayal of the same? I have pondered over it for the last few years, since I came out of college and an answer to it is almost over due.
The question would appear rather simplistic and more so cliched, especially in the context of the youth of my era, where thoughts like these would be an anachronism. Today we (barring me) know all too well where we are heading. Today the winds of opportunity blow so hard that it carries all those who wish to be in its path. But I know not if my destiny and my resting place lies in the rarefied strata, so revered by the bourgeois.

In short, i am in search of Direction and Destination. I don't seek "The Right Direction" as most people would guess about my state of mind. Rather i feel, "The Right Direction" carries a lot of redundancy with itself. The Right Direction means the direction to your right hand side, and it can mean nothing else. Technically speaking, direction is a vector quantity which has a value (of purpose) and a (not the) direction (in its elementary form). The latent value of purpose is transformed into tangible results through Direct Action (Direct + Action = Direction).

By direction, i don't imply that I be told what i ought to do or what to make of myself. But to see for myself, my road, leading beyond the horizon before it drowns its self into the sands of time. To make one direction of my own, which is distinct from those of the others and not in conflict with anybody's.

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As Richard Feynman quit aptly called it.... to know the meaning of it all, about me and my life. I am significantly (and purposely) restricting Dr. Feynman's vision, because to know the meaning of it all, one has to begin with himself, and it is on this journey that I embark upon.

Faith! Should I trust you? (Incomplete...)

As the journeys begin to a beautiful unknown,
I search through the pages of times bygone;
the trails of believers of the yesteryears,
that guide us through trials forever.

I tried to size into many a different feet,
and continued to belabor in this excruciating heat;
until I traversed the entire trodden path,
to find, not a step, befitting in the vast expanse.

Today, I shook my head in vain and despair,
searching in sparkles of brine for hope somewhere;
Moments of triumph linger down the memory lane,
to remind me of days sans much pain.

Wonder Years - Part 2 (2001)

The nights quite long, days rather short,
educes the question, to live or abort;
The dams are open and waters flow,
sometimes they rush else so slow.

The silent tides, they ebb and crest;
never they die, but they do rest;
Tireless they roam, over rocky terrain,
marking the way, forever to remain.

The thoughts exist, but so obscure,
images are blurred, like waters they wore;
The tides rise in a quite crescendo,
before each siesta, to trail and go.

As they lay, back to the earth,
times rolled back, with no dearth;
Anticipation grew by each moment,
awaiting the warm glance with distinct accent.

As returns arrive, with galloping speed,
the entire gamut of frames, flash beneath the eyelid;
The epilogue nears, as shadows seek the horizon,
and the wait resumes for the dams to reopen.

..........b'coz this is one thing I valued most after all.

Wonder Years - Part 1 (2000)

A night had passed, one set to arrive,
the days blow, but on nights I thrive;
The thoughts flow, but the dams remain,
over the smooth and rocky terrain.

Deep down the way there it was,
the something I had always dreamt of;
A sail amidst the isles of adversity,
full of laughter and great variety.

A slender figure , yet imposing,
a bit confused, still convincing;
The days show, a touch of aura,
while nights cast a bed of flora.

The heart cried, with gates wide open,
and eyes glittered as dams reopened;
As air narrowed into a warm valley,
the words flowed in a huge rally.

Alas! it had a halt,
sorry if I was at fault;
I pray it shouldn't stop at all,
b'coz this is something, I valued most after all.

The nights have returned, so dark,
A lonely figure, beneath the starless park;
The thoughts flow but the dams remain,
As I wait for them to open once again.

Living Angels (A tribute to the nurses of Jaslok hospital, Mumbai) 2001

The lights recede, as shadows arrive,
the flame shivers, as storms drive;
The will wobbles, as waters overflow,
as the oblivious foe shows its face.

As the pages of times unfold,
a glimmer of hope they behold;
The paradise is here, with gates wide open,
I felt a hug there, and my will firmed up.

The angels drowned in spotless white,
with smiles ON they looked so very bright;
The milky crown, showed the aura,
while the silent speech, cast a bed of flora.

They come with sweet imagination,
and toil with undented dedication;
They infuse zeal and enthusiasm,
with a good bit of conviction.

The turbulent seas began to calm,
as they kissed me with their warm palms;
They bestowed upon me their blessings,
which I can never repay by thanksgiving.

Now as the dawn nears,
I am delivered from all fears;
In retrospect as I look back at the crests and troughs of the terrain,
let the pages crumble,
but these memories will be there forever to remain.