Our footing may keep us down – And the place would seem a swamp,
The plight may be strong, and no sincere mirth anywhere around,
The passion is no longer down, and void we may be of any charm,
The death it may seem of our innate & inert, but there lies a stalwart waiting to emerge.
The place where we stand may be a dwelling not for us and our abode doesn’t seem anywhere here,
We are in a sojourn that is but transient and our vantage perch still needs a pristine probe,
Let the uncaged freedom be your dragnet to explore and fall to your knees to let the dragon explode,
For once the tent is pitched – churn the mountain and its bore, start building the castle that you always behold.
Once the foot is set down, each step shall be a tremble, with the verve that will get all your might overwhelm,
Turn the back on destitution and its worse, you are on your ground and your integral charge needs to immerse,
The bride you are in every moment of this war, take nothing less than what a lion would devour,
Fall in the crux and lick all its bounds, be the master of yourself and pull off euphonies in each of the work.
That will be called the aesthetic, and nothing would ever drag the allure,
The persistence may rob the hair, and it may someday seduce to vacillate,
Perfectly humane will be that sentiment, but the soul just ranks above all the ubiquitous,
Failure in deed shall make you the best, but you will never be a failure.