Archaic Ingrains1 min 322 1 min 322
I have been and I have done,
I have conquered and I have won.
I have walked the ramp, amidst roaring clap,
Not once, not twice but lap after lap.
Now what has changed I don’t comprehend,
Each of my strides reverts with a bend.
Nothing seems to be working my way,
I am strangled with utter dismay.
Where do I go to find might and solace?
What do I do to reclaim my place?
My friends rarely see in my eye,
Furtherer I reach, furtherer they fly.
Grieved I run from pillar to post,
Always followed by a pompous ghost.
A day I asked its trail to refrain,
‘How can I’, it said, ‘I am your archaic ingrains’.
‘I sculpted your being, I gave you fame,
I made the board, to imprint your name.
I am the essence, I am the core,
Hold me high and continue to adore’.
What it said were truth and fact,
Then where have I missed in my act?
The silence around, I asked the mirror,
Stop reflecting, reveal the ulterior.
Appalling images, the mirror threw,
While I slacked off, the pastures grew.
With great fervor and thump, I came aboard,
But en route, I missed sharpening my sword.
The ingrains are revered, have no flaw,
What they lack is the honed claw.
How virtuous they can be, I now realize,
If I would graze them against topical wise.