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