Do I even imagine, that my last stop
would be the sky I wished to become?
It is hues more than blue; I can conjecture,
even if I may not have a clue! Yet, my wonderment
at every new, is as honest as a child’s
at the gift of a chocolate. Why do we break
streets to renew them? I only think of an
innocent chat with myself for rejuvenation.
Am I troubled by finiteness, when there is
a discovery, a realisation, to be made every moment?
My thoughts are my self-acknowledged inventions.
It is a laughter of enlightenment; like an infant
chuckling in humour at every new word it learns.
I am replete with such stars; though they are not all;
unlike the vocabulary of a dictionary
So, I have much to conquer. And I am no railway train
only restricted to the tracks of its journey.
But am I to discover frailty and futility;
like Alexander the Great at Delphi’s Oracle,
shouting his frustration at the pronunciation
that his death will manifest before
his round-trip of the world?
montes-musings.blog 