This is the first of my dabbles in poetry....
The path stretched before,
An unending ribbon of mystery,
It was a long journey to this point,
A very eventful one they say
I cannot recollect the very beginnings,
With my intellect, limited as it is, to the sensory pleasures,
But something in me says, I would have started off much better,
For, now I stand on the threshold of my unborn dream,
It stands before me,
Waiting to be shaped and caressed,
My heart reaches out to touch and embrace it,
Forbidden by the origin of the passion, which brought me into this world,
I withdraw my extended hand and tear my eyes away from the alluring scene…
Only to behold a screen of fuzzy images and frightening color.
They assure me with convincing appeal
That things will be better
Trepidation fills my mind,
What will lay ahead…
Should I abandon my dream, my life?
Is life meant to be distorted by
Unseen and omnipresent entities
Which have seemingly no consideration for independent ideals?
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