A Caricature of a Life

A Caricature of a Life

Does our soul have a nucleus?
Are we stiff with living juxtaposition?
We rarely grasp that life is flawless.
We are we moral and alive with passion?

During our life we often forfeit tariff.
Breathe not as a man uxorious.
Balancing one’s dignity is always tough.
Venture for good, seldom validate crudeness.

Make not your missions protracted.
That corridor wages hefty toll.
In the culmination you are only cheated.
Peering backward you will feel the sinkhole.

Few dwell alive as saints.
There is no damage to strive for purity.
Stick to your heart, elude all constraints.
Once you mature, be willing to change swiftly.

It is not my place to pontificate.
I am but a poor mortal musing.
I’ve consumed years seeking to placate.
During that span I missed my calling.

I sensed I nursed ample ambition.
My thoughts and deeds were sincere.
I lived each day to remain unbroken.
My musing was my scapegoat, it was a career.

I lie here frail and lingering.
My life seemed to be tormented.
I have evolved with ageing.
Day in and day out, I was tested.

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