The following piece of prose reflects my thoughts on two of my very good friends who are quite simply mad in love. However, being a mutual friend has put me in a difficult position. Worse, my loyalty lies more so with one since that person is the friend who introduced me to the other. Yet, on occasion I am called into the open field as the arbitrator which puts me in the cross hair. Interestingly, while women have been empowered in modern times I, sometimes, am dispirited to observe that they take a step backward especially when it comes to relationships.
An Interesting Predicament
The pathetic cry of a man devoted, the soul wrenching hurt that flows. A man in love is a man complete yet decidely inept at degrading its value. A predicament as such arises, yet shall I stand in the shadow. A question with an answer opaquely clear. Deride my friendship shall I, or go to battle as a savior. A thought though crosses my mind, a woman has power infinite. Yet, clarity is something never have I seen, when a doe rides the crests of love. I do know, assert herself she will someday. Loss will not be mine, yet my friend Romeo I say: Battle all shall be won yet rout you will be at war. Delay not, for time is of the essence to victory. The elite do not think of the present but what the keystone shall be in the times to come. My lady, assert to the wishes of passion and not concede to the tempest of thoughts that affirm my friend lies astray. A savior cannot I be, for the glory is by the horizon and how the nadir is made thy own.
This piece of prose seeks to preach to society that judges the unlucky without reason. My observation of numbers has lead me to see reasons for portraying one in better light. Yet, judging the few who are disfranchised and not born with golden spoons (While a golden spoon is referential, I seek to draw the line between the ones who have had opportunities versus the ones without) is harsh. I write since humanity holds them culpable when it is society wherein lies the fault. You cannot change time, only change the possibility of repetition. Improving conditions for the unlucky is the only solution to change the mistakes they might make in the future. Our legacy is dependent on the improved benefits to the deprived.
A Deprived Man’s Tale..
Society’s defines me, whether I choose or not. Either way, sayings seem irrelevant and vile. Perfection is not what I was born to portray, I agree. Yet, as I speak impressions are made. Faults are found, as always, I believe. Should I care, or should I illustrate dissension? Yearn and realize to protect thyself is paramount. For society pleases to exemplify me as arrogant, sometimes out rightly with contempt laced with anger and jealousy. The veracity though is that I am who I am. Hold I will culpable society with diatribes insane.
My dear friend Ritesh has been hounding me for days to start my own blog. Quite recently during class, I was the target of some of my colleagues, class mates and friends once I owned up to the fact that I do enjoy writing poetry. However, I was surprised to see a few eager faces who actually wanted to gauge whether I was being a smart ass or was actually speaking the truth. Unfortunately, I did not have any of my works online a result of which is this new blog. I understand that a number of posts are dated quite the same for which I apologize.
As the Troughs and Crests of waves,
After a moon lit night, in consummation eclipsed,
Hope, always, laced with Despair,
Pray, as I will, each night, yet!
The eyes around, yet none I want to fathom,
Those that impress, yet lies no prospect.
In darkness of her hair, I lie entwined,
Days are tinged with perils of perdition.
Exulting graciousness, eternally pure,
Diffident I remain, dissected of dreams.
Linger through, will she within,
Shoulder agony for eternity should I?
The enigma inquires though, subtly,
Exacting diminutively the strength within,
Betrayed, forever, Lady Luck, you deceiver,
Imploding beliefs, exacting joy.
