By "Supposed to be a devotee"
"Keep a picture of yourself from high-school days," says my Mom,
but, what does that do?
A snapshot of a person, when dreams were dreamt,
the path lay ahead to be tilled,
sown with seeds of virtues, patience and forbearance,
fertilized with restraint,
watered with discipline and good habits,
to grow the flower of love for the higher Ideal,
along the beautiful pathway;
But all I see now is a snapshot of a person, who would
flit from desire to desire,
not stopping to think ahead or introspect.
The path traversed overgrown with weeds,
of expectation and entitlement, of arrogance and egotism;
now, bearing the deep scratches of anger and hurt,
for the pathway was instead weathered by the passing seasons of life;
Was that self of mine carefree or careless?
All that rings in my ear anymore,
"she looked like a demon when she was angry."
Inspiration it can't become,
reminder it can serve, of a life wasted!
"Keep a picture of yourself from high-school days," says my Mom,
but, what does that do?
