Being Gritty

The goal is clear, mocks me from afar,

Guides my actions, like the North Star.

Can I exchange the dream? Have I traded too low?

Should I burst like a nova, or keep burning slow? 

The passion is apparent, makes me come alive,

Every step of the journey, I give myself a high five. 

Energy invested here, could it other parts drain?

Should I hoard the thunder, or let it pour and rain?

The persistence is astonishing, I've walked a mile long,

To abandon at this juncture, on many levels, is so wrong. 

Could I dig a different place, where my efforts will bear fruit?

Is calling out the sunk cost fallacy, to myself, a bit rude?

If you insist, I'll reassess, but I know I'll stay the course,

This work is so important, that for all lives I'll endorse.

Heart Brain Tussle

Seen through my wounds, the world appears red,

I want it to fade and disappear, as I toss in my bed.

The morning sunrise, doesn't feed and sustain,

My heart has stopped beating, it's all the way brain. 

The brain calculates, who to trust and how much,

I'm always on the lookout, for new wounds as such.

Once a victim, now a survivor, the label doesn't help,

At the slightest slight, I get triggered, and go for the scalp.

My past defines me; I can't afford another defeat,

I can't let you cheat me; I'll never get back on my feet.

You may be an angel in disguise, I'll give it a pass,

When I'm bleeding profusely, cauterization seems a farce.

You want to hurt me further, when I'm already hurt and clearly in pain,

My heart is not convinced, though my brain realizes it's for long-term gain.

The Golden Pursuit

I need to rake in the moolah, life is short, 

It'll ensure stability- you gently exhort.

Wealth once accumulated, takes time to diminish,

The race is about survival, from start to finish.

I need to rake in the moolah, life is uncertain,

Without money to flaunt, it's a tad less fun.

I need to up the Joneses, have discretionary spends,

With me on the top, alone, is how I know it ends. 

I need to rake in the moolah, life is unlived,

It's an empty canvas, that with money can be filled.

Untethered from work, I can write sonnets at will,

Do charity, create impact, with a note two birds kill.

Money is not the enemy, it is the reasons we covet it for,

Pursue money all you want, don't let it tarnish your golden core.

Different Lives, Different Masters

To sit on a pile of cash, or bond with someone dear, 

Some aspire to be on the top 10 lists, others leaving no legacy fear.

Some are drawn to how they can drive others, others driven by personal growth,

Some want to attract and be beautiful, though they may get burned in the process like a moth.   

Fame, power, wealth are the anchors, that keep many a people afloat,

That love and service could be a lifeline, they don't know- they never sailed that boat.

All their life spent to earn enough, so they can pay a higher bill,

It costs them health and peace of mind, and increases their chance of being ill. 

You become what you aspire for, you become what you behave,

When goals are not steeped in your soul, even after achieving you crave.

When you are driven by care for others, and want to serve and deepen ties,

You are happy and more satisfied, you can overthrow materialist lies.

On the death bed you never regret, how you could have earned even more,

Only that you could have loved and lived well, and left this world better than before.

Pacing Myself

Suffering from diabetes, I have been advised brisk walk,

I prefer a leisurely stroll, where with friends I can talk.

Chats and gossips done, the walk feels less of a task,

Amidst laughter and tomfoolery, I can let go of my mask.

 

Walking collectively, poses a challenge of sorts, 

That the group mirrors my rhythm, what are the odds?

Some chug along fast, others force me to slow down.

I can't split the group in two, or all around me frown.

So I'm forced to walk, at a slightly unnatural pace,

With the athletes amongst us, I literally run to not lose face.

While with others who are, more carefree and laid back,

I have to goad them into action, lest they be left behind the pack.

In any human endeavor, there's a dynamic at play,

To walk beside the slowest person, I'd prefer any day. 

On Being A Survivor

Fired on an email, or en masse over a Zoom call,

Escorted out of the building, and made to feel small.

The reasons given are pragmatic- you did't perform well, 

We bulk-hired in anticipation, but the services didn't sell. 

There is an economic slowdown, AI has come for your jobs,

We need to label you the bottom 10%, never mind if that dignity robs.

Those of you who are spared, must be grateful, heave a sigh of relief,

That you become mistrustful, is beyond comprehension, what's your beef?

You are the last man standing, why be bitter and hurt?

Rejoice in the dry promotion, stop wondering if it's worth!

Why feel responsible and guilty, for the ones who have been laid off,

Don't even think of leaving the organisation, which has your interests sold off.

Anger, depression, guilt and resentment- it's more severe for those who remain,

We don't just have to support those impacted, but also hide and hoard our pain.

Getting Philosophical

Look inwards, acknowledge your past, inside lurks a shadow self,

For all your well-intentioned vows, self-sabotage you couldn't help.

Enough of curating and licking your wounds; they have almost become an identity,

Take one hard look and let go henceforth; don't keep wallowing in self-pity.

Plans collapse, you lose control, and hit the absurd wall of reality,

Your Sisyphean resolve to shoulder the boulder, neither the world cares, nor the city.

Stop repeating the lies, good wins in the end, the universe doesn't owe you nothing,

Revolt if you must, do what needs to be done, let your existence be by itself a thing.

They say there's no built-in meaning to things- you're not trapped, you can finally break free,

If the river of life has no bridge to walk over, you can create one and a Superman be.

Pour yourself into what gives meaning to you; let naysayers dismiss it as a frivolous fantasy,

Decide once and remain committed for life- life wasn't supposed to be all roses and easy.

Jung helps you drop the mask, Camus unmasks the absurd, Neitzche points what to do next,

I may think that poetry is my only salvation, but it's a daily salve for my soul at best.