Standing on the crossroads, no real path to go
No road less travelled where I could tread and show,
My destiny lies in standing upright and facing the storm,
Be battered, beaten but still expected to stand strong.
Amidst my widespread hands the birds of season find their home,
Why is it that I am still at the crossroads when the birds are long gone,
When under my firmly grounded legs thou could find the divine light,
Then why the destiny limits me to protect mortals from the sun so bright?
When I watch the entire world going places and being the sport,
Why is it that I am the one who stands still holding the fort,
When the world is talking about freedom of movement and speech,
My destiny forces me to wear the silence on my lips and shackles on my feet.
In this exciting stage of the world where one is destined for a role,
All that the universe wanted me to be was a square peg in a round hole,
In these times of morbid souls and diminishing human camaraderie,
Perhaps it is my destiny to be at the crossroads, and be “The Big Banyan Tree”.
I am writing a poetry after a very long time, would love to read your comments on this one.
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