Tuesday, September 07, 2010

28 Septembers

Stuck in the middle,
At the doorstep.
On one leg
I
stand, thinking;
While the other leg’s busy
Making up its mind,
Which side to take faith’s leap.

They say
maturity comes with age.
Well, I know not wise men;
If you’re reading this,
Try to read my lips,
I’d say
it’s something more apt
for whisky or wine.

To me,
Maturity is attained
Only when you’re
childlike again.
Perhaps,
it’s now.
Or it will be
when I’m gray.

I’ve travelled
28 Septembers so far.
I no longer am
Who I used to be.
And I am yet to become
Who I ought to be.
Now I set my foot forward
For I’m on a journey
To return to me.