A little road goes winding down,
A little turn, comes all the way around,
Before you know it, you are back,
Among those same familiar sounds.
Square one they call it, the rigmarole,
The trapdoor, the hidden hole.
No matter what journey you make,
You come back and land at the same place?
It's no coincidence, it can't be fate!
It's just that your eyes can't see a new way.
May be you need to look under the bushes,
Over the trees? A little nudge to the left, or blindly follow the breeze.
Stumble and fall, and lose your way, no breadcrumbs, no milestones,
No guide to find your way back.
Then you may be on the right track,
Never look back at old horizons,
Then you may break the circles.
3rd April, 2012.
A little turn, comes all the way around,
Before you know it, you are back,
Among those same familiar sounds.
Square one they call it, the rigmarole,
The trapdoor, the hidden hole.
No matter what journey you make,
You come back and land at the same place?
It's no coincidence, it can't be fate!
It's just that your eyes can't see a new way.
May be you need to look under the bushes,
Over the trees? A little nudge to the left, or blindly follow the breeze.
Stumble and fall, and lose your way, no breadcrumbs, no milestones,
No guide to find your way back.
Then you may be on the right track,
Never look back at old horizons,
Then you may break the circles.
3rd April, 2012.
2 comments:
I loved the last few lines, beautiful and simple.
I really liked your latest poem too.
Keep writing.
Rucha
Thank you Rucha! Keep reading :)
Post a Comment