10 Days To Go

Its not the Horizon that I am chasing right now, thought life should be that ways for most of the time. The path ahead is more like a rancid plain followed by a hill that has to be climbed and in time that doesn't go beyond the fading twilight. This is so to avoid the spell casting night during which the wait has to coursed to go around the hill to the other side and during a time when the crowd that has already reached the top, is resting and preparing to advance towards the mountain, at dawn. I would be left behind to play catch up, the night plagued by snakes and darkness obstructs the expedition manifolds.

The marathon that started a decade ago seems to have put the sun above my head at dusk, to face the scorching heat. The backlog seems to have increased to the levels that were there at the inception and lost is the momentum that was gained in the galloping noon. I am wondering how the horse in me died and such a subtle way. Here you cannot manage to be an Usain Bolt or not even the tortoise. Only mortals with a strong Head Line and a human pedigree can move forward. Even the pedestrians are ahead at this point in time, and much to my realization is the requirement to keep pace with the last lot of this date.

What Started 10 years ago has to be kept in good motion and for that to happen, the next 10 days have to run well.

Never before was a successful climb more decisive. Never before was i left with no one else to follow. For the dawn to come soon and in the best shape, the dusk has to show the intent that once inhibited me during noon. Thrice before have i faced the same fate and succumbed. Greased elbows and knees was all i had to pay with. The free chances end with this fourth time. Another let down will lead me to the valley of the snakes.

Heaven on earth is what lies beyond the mountain top. At least that is what it boasts to be! It is both the destination and destiny. The earlier you reach the longer you stay.

And all is not lost yet. But is the path to this mountain after the hill destiny too? Thus the high prevalent priorities are due to fact that Blessings in Disguise can't be counted upon. Even though everything happens for the better and when the time is ripe, you cannot sit back and wait for it. And when you have the bow and arrow in hand then you might as well shoot than to hope that the enemy gets scared. And its just fitting that the arrow is pulled back before it is released.

Analogically Its Time..!!

Who Likes The Pumpkin

The Big fat pumpkin screams as usual,

Creates drama, attracts the vegetables,

Towards her tasteles, discarded, sorry fate.

The ugly and voracious were never so appealing,

In the kitchen of humans.

They circled around her, inspired,

Starting to believe in the survival of the fittest,

When their existence defied this very ideology

And the knife suddenly became an enemy.

How could they forget their purpose?

To be fresh and consumable for the master,

Else their rotten corpse is sure to decay

And end up being an insects' prey.

The onlooking honey, perplexed,

Excluded, sad, after a solitary mingling

Of his with the pumpkin, a one off dish,

When He turned her edible, a one off again.

But the sweetness he forgot, was his by defenition,

That he could be used everywhere,taste giver,

His destiny transcended beyond his company, 

While the pumpkin was used for Ketchup Adultery.

He belonged to a different class and kin,

Thousands of bees were sacrificed for him

Even though he shares the space with vegetables

His shelf is high, and so is the human regard.

And who likes the pumpkin?

The Overgrown Potato

The inhibited excitement of the long awaited rain

On the sands of the Dubai terrain

Felt like music Despite the riches

And made the camel dance and run.

The wind for now is clean of sand

The sun for now is beyond man

The cactus right now has soft thorns

And the desert now is filled with ponds.

The thirsty seeds that were devoid of means

Receive the moisture and the cold

To grow and bear the fruits like gold

Keep'em forever, never to be sold.

But the desert had always known its fate

For it was not the evening, just an eclipse

And the sun would spoil the sleep and play

And boil away its cherished lake.

The music now is noise pollution

The wind now is scarred with treason

The sky now is of a different season

And to love her now there is no reason.

The plant I had sown was burned to death

The fruit I hoped was a beauful face

Didn't have either the juice or taste

And all it looked like was an overgrown potato.