Destiny

Some find the road daunting like a wraith of asphalt,
the potholes like trenches of fire and brimstone,
they neither see the glinting horizon, or breathe
the scent of hope, their eyes fixed on planting feet
firmly, hoping some miasma of death, rising from
the cracked surface won’t rise, threaten and
engulf, empower, entangle them and drag them
into the abyss with a net of malice, but forget
that they’re already in the pit and they’ve
only deluded themselves into thinking that
they walk.

Some rush, thinking the horizon is just footfalls
away and amaze others, leaping hurdle after hurdle,
before striking one and breaking bone and tearing
ligaments and then in pain, howling, screaming,
shrieking, they cry to the gods who watched them
with amusement, knowing exactly when they’ll
shatter like fragile glassware falling from a cabinet
to the dusty floor.

Some tread carefully but never lose sight of
the horizon, amazing the gods more than men,
enduring, and slowly weaving their way,
both realistic and abstract, both bold
and vulnerable, fighting with burnished breastplates
when asked to, but tossing it aside and
letting the hard rain of refinement soak their naked skin
when needed, and for them the path
becomes lucid, brighter and they enjoy the
walk despite the hardships and trial and
tribulation before finally touching the
horizon, and blazing with the scintillating
glow of redemption.

© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)

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6 Comments

  1. … with face set like flint
    for the horizon before them
    Nitin, this is inspiration.
    May the road rise with you.

    1. Thank you very much! Contact me. You’ll find the contact button if you press the plus symbol on the top right hand corner of my page. And I’ll send you a list. If not, start with books by Dostoevsky. Books like Crime and Punishment and Devils will definitely help. You could throw in a little Fitzgerald too. Tender is the Night is my favourite book.

  2. “…forget
    that they’re already in the pit and they’ve
    only deluded themselves into thinking that
    they walk.”
    and that whole last section about The Ones who fight (especially “…but tossing it aside and
    let the hard rain of refinement soak their naked skin”) are my two favorite sections.
    Nicely done.

    1. Thank you so much Chelsea. This is one of metaphysical poems and I wasn’t sure whether people would like it or not. I’m just glad you did.

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