A desire .. a dream …
Not often for being
Clipped off its wings
In an aviary the pigeon lie
Dreaming some day to fly

What if I stopped dreaming someday just because I thought even without giving it a try worth it’s salt that the dream wouldn’t be realized.

For every dream that I give up, I loose an entire life. I wish I could be like the pigeon some day who can dream even when it is in a cage, even when its wings are clipped, even when it knows it cannot fly, but still holds a desire that it can … one day …. perhaps some day ….

Who knows what holds, who holds and for what
The clodhopper perambulates the dim lit lanes
And breeds a yeoman far more succinct
Than the prig on his way to a school
Destiny.. that’s not life,
That’s not what soul had engendered
That’s not life without its own karma
That’s not the soul that had betrayed my decision
That’s not life if only it was ever to be destined.

Destiny … that’s not life
In every semblance of doubt that bores
A yes or perhaps a no …. But then
For every wrong, would life have made it right
Even without that one single try
Would it still be destined if I had not
Given it an honest try.