is it yet the hour to be dauntlessly leaping?
keeping in mind the creeping of the mind
on all the aspects of the mind's reaching?
the mind's seething leeching of body's preaching breathing?
i'm still young, will be twenty one soon, the moon
is old yet it waxes and wanes, it pains
for no reason, it rains in every season, then why
is it not the hour to be dauntlessly leaping yet?
you bet i get wet at the thought of dauntlessly leaping
i fret i'll get whet at the lack of adequate reaping
of my pleasure domes of my so-called homes
and all those thoughts, taut and fraught, stretch to my end
only to snap back at every moment like a rubberband
snaps back when stretched to its end.
when the choice is only between a life bitter and alone
and no life at all, how easy it is to wear cologne
and visit the mall, how easy to choose, how breezy to be
but when you see the world and lose yourself in it
surrounded by possibilities that radiate a fate that
traces itself back to you, you think dauntlessly leaping
has other meanings too.
but a lot of butterflies bloom in this brief precipice
of positivity, churning storms in my mind, burning
brahman bukakes, learning christ kamikazes, turning
and turning in the widening pyre, until, yet again, the past
is jetsam, present becomes flotsam, and the future is
a quietly drifting boatswain with heels perked always
to dauntlessly leap into the only real sleep.
~ ajay
20/3/2022
