I was born into a story,
With little choice about my role or its running time,
There’s some magic in peeking from the cliff of an experience,
With little information about its culmination.
Some times sweet, some times bitter
And at times bitter sweet.
As they say,
Life is beauriful
When felt from the comforts of the own skin.
For the magnificence of self embrace,
Can never be replicated in a thousand pats of approval.
Life to me is a continuous journey,
With foot trails alone to corroborate;
Meagre patches on the sands of time.
But viewed from the tower of destination one day;
Through the lenses of retrospect,
They would connect together backwards as dots that led me there,
Making more sense than they did,
When the thorns pierced through the feet,
Or when the legs grew numb.
That day the big picture would show itself to me;
One fashioned out of my wilful decisions,
Than wishful outcomes.
An indelible impression of me to leave behind.