Through Hallways Of The Castle In Spain

DELIGHT IN DEBACLES

Had I known in years gone by
My debacles for I'd countlessly sighed;
Shall be now so fruitful
And bear a fruit of my quiet pride.

The tree I'd so long ago
Given up on watering,
Given up on seeing to.
Forgone was it in memories.

But this lonely tree remained and it grew
And grew in silence on its own;
Then I found it stronger than stones
Standing tall and mighty but no longer alone

And now I have learnt
And from experience I know;
From one a many fiasco
From one a many woe.

Perhaps something bad
Ought to happen for understanding the better;
Follow up a bird in the sky
And get left behind in a wood.

Remains a way always,
Remains so long as does the ground;
For all the fight you'd ever put up
An end to the wallow shall be found.

Today, I'd mutter I'd indeed learnt
Today, I talk from the wisdom I know;
From one a many fiasco
From one a many a woe

And my heart can tell you so,
Success isn't the life's carrier.
Now I pride myself in
What I'd once called a failure.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luna Ro.♡


P.S

The title was somewhat supposed to be something like "pride in failure" but that's too bleak. So I looked up for synonyms aaaand I found this word called "debacle" which apparently means failure as well.

But.

Do you even know how I came up with this?

I bet my life, no one would and will ever come across the answer if I don't, myself speak it.

Let this great (foolish) one tell you.


This came from all those days I spend packing-in secret anxiousness (secret, for it was only known to me)- before my own tournaments.

I know exactly how to pack for tournaments now and how I'm supposed to navigate in these places.

So my dad also played today, dec 16, and I went down stairs and helped him pack even though he didn't ask for help. I wanted to wish him luck but I'm too shy and I'm perhaps the worst person when it comes to giving motivation(its mostly speaking some really flamboyantly inspirational dialogues, I am very much unable to do that) so instead I went and packed his stuff.

My brother also played last two days, dec 14 and 15, (he didn't win-i cried but no one has to know that) I packed for him for the same reason. Because I couldn't verbally wish him luck.


Because though I may have never ever have tasted true success. But I have packed plenty of times. I think, I have some skills except leaving things halfway.

Its Preparation.

Or, to be exact: Organization (as in organizing something).

(Though I'm not at all an organized person.)

And just this much, this helping pack, this tiny little help, it filled me with a glee rivaling that of kids. No, it didn't show on my face. Excitement no longer does.


And I was in the bathroom, -a writer's most inspiring idea brewing chamber- washing my hands and about to leave when some lines suddenly hit me. My body itched to run to my phone and type it but my head held me in place to think a few lines more.


They were,

"But now I have learnt
And from experience I know
From many failed attempts
From many moments of sadness.

(I'm supposed to say something here, add a few rhyming stanzas here and there and this would be the last line, I'd decided.)

Now I pride myself in
What I'd once called a failure."


And bam! I started typing it out here because manual writing wouldn't be fast enough to keep up with my bullet train of a brain. (Oh that rhymed-)


Now it sounds like it was nothing special..

Well, that is the sad part.

You want people to ask you what inspired you to write but no one I've encountered so far who genuinely popped the question themselves.

And also once you tell them, it becomes way too ordinary.


Well, I'm going to boast a bit because I can and I deserve it (hah you think you fool) ahem.


The most ironic part to write was-

"Follow a bird, get lost in a forest" as I had initially planned but changed a bit. How could I connect? One of my life mottos.

"I just need the ground and myself. Its okay if its dark, as long as I keep running. That's all what matters."


And honestly its the shortest time I've taken to write a poem. Even this postscript that you're reading took and much longer.