A Tribute To My Guilt

Drowning in the deep guilt

Yet see another hope,

Somehow this has become a routine

That now the bliss of life

Seems a CURSE.

I cry, all alone these times,

That my cushion somehow

Is now sorry for me;

These tears might wash away

A shade of guilt,

But repeated happening of this

Now means that -

' I'm NOT REALLY WORTH IT. '

I promise myself to be strong

To be bold,

But as always those things happen

Which were once untold.

Then I tell myself -

"Time flies and the wound heals."

Instead of the expected

The question arises ' is it reality? '

To answer this vengeance,

My tears and courage become collateral.

Irony! The question is rhetorical.

The entangled paradigm of life

Brings all to one serene spot,

Yet, my guilty heart,

Pounds me to the same old rot.

Many times, I question

My existence

And wonder- if it's so messed up,

How hard have I to try finding

The perfect perseverance?

No words can cure

No blessings can ensure,

It's the deep inner-side

That is in long slumber;

To break the unbreakable

All dreams shall be shattered,

No beverage or no adhesives;

The GUILT will again

shape them together.

GUILT it is,

The lacquer mixed gold

To attend the 'Kintsugi' of life

And to embrace the broken pot.

The sun rises being lovely

When the moon sleeps,

But the irony it is that -

We do often scold the hard sun

But never forget the moonbeams to cherish.

Who sees how much pain?

Moon has to bear,

We see things superficially

And become a mere spectator.

So is life!

Then what should we do?

Let the GUILT burn the soul

And the vengeance to play its role,

Instead of the old rot,

I and we will surely move forward

From that same SERENE SPOT.