THE GRATEFUL PEN

 

People will always be there

But don’t try to please people

It will delay you success

And make your failure come so fast

I am afraid and I’m scared to show it

I fear if I don’t write this

Then I should never write again

And I fear if I do write it

It would not be as good as it should be

But I do like to try, though I’m not a supernova in the pen galaxy

How do I write about this ephemeral glimpse of inspiration?

It passed like a fire fly through my lonely nights

I don’t know how to put into words what I know of this essence

While some people are born to be poets

I was just born into poetry

But I still admit, my relationship with the pen is an accident

This is a fiction but inspired by truth

I am nothing but a spectator

I can’t seem to bend nature to my will

What then is the point flaunting my royalty

I am just like a king in exile

Robe-less and crownless

A mere dust

It’s a privilege to know the moment of one’s death in advance

You just have to prepare for it

But it’s a curse to be so far from home

We won’t have the chance to say goodbyes if we have to

Don’t ask me if I’m preparing to die yet

Surely death is inevitable

But if I am to die

With God’s grace

Let me die as a man

Not as a beast

I have been through a lot

I wouldn’t like to say I’ve got experience more than my age

But thanks to God I don’t look like what I’ve been through

I belong to the fellowship of people who bear the mark of pain

But my soul has emerged with the force and splendor of a sunrise

I have integrated my innocence with my gallant spirit of a warrior

I harmonize my humility with my power

But it is interesting; I bear the scars of war

Hoping they do become stars someday

The pain that came with the scars made me feel alive