WORDS ON THE HORIZON

TWENTY FIVE STRANDS

The twenty fifth standard of self actualization,
A first person account is the one that endears.
Young man or initiate,
my autobiographical early birds are somewhere resting,
in their well stocked cabinet of spirits.
In some futuristic pecking order they will chirp.
I'm in the here and now,
sketching my daily memoir of nothing and everything.
I swing from those grey strands on my head,
all the way towards insistences and encouragements.

(1)
You've seen V,its hard to be a good man in an obtuse man's world,
hard to bookend my fretful nature.
I am confirmed to stand in second file,
occupy second best ranks, for now.
Pray that my six year involvement with the art of struggles,
the coming and going and hours immersed in advancing my self worth,
suddenly take a permanent leave of abstention from these concentric circles.
I've walked and walked,blistered by anonymous doubts,
My chapped skin has withstood enquiries from so many sources.
Pray that my ripened, spirited fruits are replenished.
Twenty five strands of your conviction have restored my truth.

(2)
M was lifted up, the hospital bed took her in,
an immediate catastrophe entered her chain.
No one entered there to even ask,
or consider why I was out of town.
In these many years, I simmer in forgotten sentences in their conversations,
an intelligible simmer of quiet that passes the buck to them,
for their wrongful interpretation
But I care more for you M
Don't worry I will take my classes, be up to the mark.
I would have given up even two years back,
but those August days saw my twenty five strands.
A twenty fifth hour added to each day,
my strength mingled with your own unwavering clout.
So what if nephrology danced over our heads?

(3)
A humbling change has been brought,
I am trying my best to be a good boy,
Let me be one.
Both of you  prefer that

Let this be known and apprised to all,
there's no truth in being a singular man in an obtuse man's world.
The struggles bear no gendered tissue.
It is a time to think ahead,
so even if twenty five strands of grey grow on my head,
I will be a boy,
one that comforts both of you.
This obtuse world is deadened beyond concrete walls,
as long as this is our agreement
This is the one that endears.

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# a closer to life encapsulation of my experiences in the last few months than I can muster up the courage to write.
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