Did experience teach me? Was I substantiated by such reality?: A poem 

Did I feel sore from wounds, or learnt 

to align myself with a deeper understanding 

That I felt the pain, but didn’t feel the ugly protest 

I am beginning to see the perspective of a prosaic  

sublimity that goes beyond mere stoicism, 

A tall mountain occluded in the horizon of vision  

by a near standing smaller hill.  

You can see the point of a relentless reality 

and not be estranged from your priorities  

Like when you think the gift of opportunity 

is a stranger that plots to tyrannise you 

like the ringmaster to a vulnerable, ill-fed, captive beast! 

How do you alienate or insulate from your surrounds 

that such an experience can only be a teacher  

of a negativity that lambasts your prudence 

And you try to be fair in all the adversity 

even if it means punishing yourself 

but still being retentive of your conviction 

Experience was only pragmatic, no teacher! 

It mostly postured as an intimidation and adversity 

The enemy without wanted to preclude my wisdom 

So was experience itself taught its lessons with my clarity 

of perspicaciousity, burning in the alleys of my heart, mind and soul 

that was inherited from the simple inherent complexity of eternal being!