"The apple falls from branches high and free,
Sweet,
ripe,
it beckons with its tempting hue,
Its innocence concealed,
a truth to see,
In biting,
we embrace a fate we knew.
The trap of choices,
timeless,
ever bright,
The final bite,
the consequences looming,
As we await our judgment in the night,
Rowdy with guilt,
our actions all assuming.
We fall,
and in this prison we remain,
Our thoughts are confined,
outside the box unknown,
Emotions weave their cunning,
endless chain,
We hang on ledges,
chocking on our own.
Perception shifts as downward as we descend,
Our voices echo,
but they're lost,
it seems,
In mediocrity,
we try to blend,
While others savor apples in their dreams.
We're not the same,
some limbs in plenty of gleam,
While 'disabled' reach the tree with lesser chance, Would you share more,
fulfill a whispered dream,
Or keep it all inside,
your heart's expanse?
I drown in thoughts,
a self-made cage,
it's true,
Cocktails of time keep coming,
one by one,
I seek salvation,
wondering what to do,
In twisting,
turning time,
my race is run.
I slipped outside,
discovered truth anew,
Perhaps the fruit's not tainted,
as we thought,
What if its seeds in concrete jungles grew,
Would you partake,
or judgment have you caught?
The apple fell,
its fruits held a surprise,
Beyond our understanding,
it would soar,
Perception's lens,
through which we scrutinize,
And in the forbidden,
sweetest truths we store."
YOU ARE READING
LETTERS FOR MY MOTHER
PoetryThis is collective writting of words and expreciences i had with my Mother and my day to day views as a man .Now painting a view of life as we know it through my works of letters and poetry
