As life unfolds and reveals itself,
And wards enough gaps to unwind,
As the story begin to play in rewind,
I stare back at those versions of me and times,
I only gather that I missed many memos,
Sometime it felt like a course,
what’s hip, what’s cool,
What makes a fool,
What’s character, what’s facade,
What’s potential, what’s charade;
Each time I missed, life nudged me right
It favoured, guides and laughed
I still put up a fight,
“Make me the richest“ I cried
Wisdom- poor, intellect wise
I sense no difference ;
What’s worth ?
what’s just passing prize?
“ Make me the most beautiful”
I carried on,
“ At least the most confident”
Blinded to my gold,
Life still stayed and walked,
Lovingly through my fog,
I kept missing perceived goals,
Memos, goals and all the glutinous egoic hogs,
To fill inner spaces,
To fit undecided places,
Or a small hole,
I craved many memos till I chased no more,
Those concepts like old folklore
Wait my friend, the fog will lift,
Watch self from far and catch it’s whims,
Missed the memo?
Thank life for it
Beguiling this chase,
Empty it’s brims,
Turn back and look,
Who wrote the memo?
Who passed them on?
Who decided the scales?
Who took them on?
Throw some memos that need you to crawl,
Unfurl those wings and sample those falls,
Carry self to the other side of the wall,
Embrace self and honour life’s haul
– rupika moitra