Sitting on a swivel chair
Staring blankly in an open air
Feeling down, without a sound
I see myself, much below the ground.
With poignant feeling
Yet with no mood swings,
Doesn’t really know,
On what to do.
Wishing for glitters,
But came only blisters
Of yesterdays sorrow
And today’s despair.
What would tomorrow be?
If I can’t maneuver the wheel?
Of aiming for the better
Without much trouble.
Should I turn out to be?
Like anybody else?
Or will I only remain
Trapped within my shelf?
Will I always conceal?
And remain running
On the same wheel?
Or shall I now reveal
Of what’s beyond the mind
On the face without a trace?
I stand, I walk
I look, I see
Opened my mouth
But without a word
Talk on the mind
But without a sound.
Perhaps I’ll remain
But it’s not what I aim.
One of these days
I wish to conquer
All my ambitions
I wish to climb.
I will not stop
I shall be on top.
My lips now may be shut,
But my mind’s playing
Now to start.
One day soon
I shall conquer,
One day soon
I shall capture,
I shall soar,
I shall succeed.
And with God’s help
I’ll find my way.
031701
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