I look into a mirror; I see my past.
I notice that time has flown really fast.
The present me can do more than what the past me could.
This progress makes me grateful, for life is good.
Soft, silky, separate strands.
On touching, they come with the hands.
Makes men sad from the heart’s bottom-
this chronic, inherited, human autumn.
Broken brakes and tired tyres.
The thrill of speed the heart desires;
But a thinking brain under the skull one requires;
for some burnt rubbers can lead to burning pyres.
Reminiscences of school days and an update of the present.
A review of what went last week and plans for the coming one.
On the terrace, we discuss all these, while peeps at us the crescent.
It’s just the place where we talk about everything under the sun.
We chop them, crop them, and kick them around like hell,
yet they silently bear it all like they were cast under a spell.
They sacrifice themselves-sometimes in full, sometimes half.
Like sadists we read them, and have a hearty laugh.
As is the parents’ duty to educate the kid,
So is the kid’s to take care of them in old age.
Ever grateful for the sacrifices my folks did,
I now begin my journey on this repayment stage.
One set of shapes do I change to another.
Most I got from others, while just one from my mother.
All these I do, for not everyone knows everything.
I embark on a literary flight on this conversion wing.
A language or skill or science or art.
Learn it well with all your heart.
For it’s when you’re open to learn
That you eject ignorance and let it burn.
Unwavering resolve to heal the wounds we had caused.
Not a thing has changed, but many a year has passed.
Did we act on a whim? We soul-search everyday.
Only if we could revert to the past, will some things just stay?
After all the rites are passed and all the dragons slayed,
After all seven seas are crossed and for adventure you need pretext,
Look for swords to be freed and music pillars to be played,
For stagnant is the life of he who asks not what’s next.