The elation of anticipation…
Soars like a crescent of a wave..
Then ebbs…
Rapidly..
Pulled back by currents of insecurity
Clawing away at the tiny grains of self confidence….
Never to rest on the shores of accomplishment

I cant stop the tears running down.
I’m so scared..
What if .. what if..
All this comes to naught..
Nothing…
What am I striving for?
A one book crusade to stardom..
Immortality trapped in a few 100 pages?

is too much to ask you?..
to have a bit of faith..
a bit of faith
as i go through
the darkest, most unsure moments..

stepping gingerly over a crumbling path.
with bogpits, land mines and self dug graves.
why do I feel that sometimes..
you are just waiting..
watching..
sneering..
till i make a free fall over the abyss..
into an unmarked grave..

why is it so hard for you to have faith?
is it because you see signs of doom etched on my brow?
a condemned soul, stillborn in spirit..
without any promise?..

what will it take for you to believe in me?
How can i prove myself...
when they say its the slow snail who wins..
while the swift gazelle is devoured
i cant help the painfully long journey..
the ardorous on-the-spot marathons, the hairpin bends
and the exhausting 360 degree twirls.
none of which propels you more than a few millimeters forward.

oh.. but pls pls do
believe in me
because without you
i am incomplete.
my most disdaining
critical
cynical self!!...

You ask your self a million questions..
Can I? will I? ever make it to the end
to the top of that pristine white hilltop
where dreams reign,
where heaven is closest to earth..

but that period of trial.
the first dark hours
when you are an utter nobody
struggling to fell the thorns
and fight the snakes..
to cut a path
that is yet untrodden..

to endure the looks of dissapointment
bewildered confusion
and slight disillusionment
in your mother's eyes
as she wonders
what the hell is this kid upto
will she ever make it

as your father shudders
at stories of "other kids"
who've tried and failed
who've gone astray
deviating from the norm
chasing those illusive fire flies..
called dreams..

their insecurity of old age..
aggravated by dwindling savings
rising inflation
and the natural urge for a safe heaven...
make them doubt u
misunderstand u
and even force u
to give up..

friends.... all in their glitzy cars
sporting the latest gizmos..
stuck in the rut of a routine
slowly corroding
fermenting in the acid of "high pressure- high flying" jobs
but then...
they score high
on the conventional scorecard of "success"

and then..
those "remarkably smart and talented" souls
who's memoirs you thumb through a million times
with unmentionable suffering
which makes their lives sound like fairy tales..
but...
when u have to go through the fire test your self..
fear grips you
self doubt shatters you
every limb aching with the fear of failure.
every joint reverberating with regret for the other more enticing opportunities lost
every vein constricted with the fear of giving up, at the last minute..

not knowing how close you were to the dream
oblivious to one's own limit
ignorant to one's own capacity to persist and endure..
its a precariously volcanic path they trudge..
those in pursuit of the "unconventional" dream...

those who strive to make it on their own...
trying sometimes foolishly to carve out their own way
in a complex labyrinth of criss-crossing paths..
already defined and already trodden...

is it worth it?
to chase your dreams
with all your might?
and push your self into an infinite abyss
filled with sleepless nights
with insecurity oozing from every pour...

nerves tingling on the edge..
when you walk the plank
blind folded.
the guilt and fear of not having at least tying to live your dream
prodding you from the back like an invisible blade with a poisonous edge.

but you don't know,
whether you would drown to death
or be delivered of suffering
and be granted eternal life.
at the end of this precarious journey..

each step.. unsure..
wobbling... wanting to run back
into a secure cocoon of predictability
throat parched..
brow wet..
your whole being cold..
in anticipation..

anticipation of what?..
eternal bliss or sudden death
like plunging into an infinite ocean with a milestone around your neck?

but yet you strive..
either because you haven no other choice
to quieten that raging, howling conscience..

but its defnitely NOT bravery
as is posthumously recorded.
by those inferior scribes..
who never had the guts
to walk the plank of life..