The landing may be rough
Yet the arrival is mostly welcome
The comfort even assured
for the first nine months
Itinerary laid out, routes mapped
and plans made past A to Z
As the reluctant pilgrim ambles along unaware
The road, the map and every bit of itinerary (are) for choosing
Flexible and fluid more than footprints on water
Local attractions, must-see places and discounted heartbreaks to lure
Many bends and twists across the serpentine rollercoaster
Toys and toil that keep more than a few occupied
at times to the very exclusion of sojourn
Some linger too long in palaces of paper
kvelling over the name pinned to the door
Some wander about causeless forgetting,
the planet and the fate are both round in shape
Still more sweat out for the imagined race
Players with different lines to finish, at varying pace
Climes of many kind toughen some,
wither away some more,
and get only a few to blossom.
A lot more entangle
in the web of feelings fervent
Stalled in the mind and clogged of heart
A hearse broken down mid-sojourn
The breath, the beat and the hours
ticking away ceaseless
Yet the dream of immortality keeps many
from opening eyes, coming awake to life.
Moving from one to the next
a day, an hour, a moment
Life itself ticking away
on the time-piece wearing down the wrist
Yet, to most, the only certainty that is, the death,
in all of the chaos and tumult of a ride
Is but a myth from stories of alien planets.
A myth reserved for the rest.
Each busy playing Cassandra to self,
until the day the bliss of ignorance
continues to numb the pain of knowing.
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