What is the call?–

When you’re under pressure,
and you’ve left far behind
your erstwhile baby bed,
you finally find
that eyes get healed
that once were blind,
so you can see more clear ahead
the moment of a space-time fissure
that will take you hence–

What is your call–
your calling?

The one you’ll heed,
that bids you pick you up
a thousand times,
even when you think
you’re so fed up,
that you no longer
can believe,
after so and so
much falling?

What IS that call?
the intersection
of the outer world’s need,
your inner love
and deepest wherewithal?

Even though
to answer that
may seem a Herculean deed,
and you still feel
as though
you just don’t know,
take your best guess!

Pick up that ball!-

And get it into play!
With both stick-to-it-ivity
and utter gentleness,

So that, by your motion
and devotion,
with some gradual,
with keen development
and push-pull finesse,
you’ll find the perfect formula,
that yields
the wonder-way,

and feels just like
a magic potion,
that makes it so,
both little old you,
and the whole wide world, too,
will see a better,
brighter day.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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