The plain ground calls, Like drop of water falls, Offering bed of roses, A real or an imaginary paradise it poses, Below, I wasn't ready to break more walls. The blue bowl above remained visible, Reminding me to soar - it's advisable, A much more deadly path to thread, Many ascended, felled but I dared, Leaving my footprints there - indelible. Life has never been fair, A heavy oppression seemed to brood upon the air, Covered time and space determines our fate, Not a mere figment of a poet's fancy that you should hate, But I have made my choice like the wretched bearing Sinclair. I choose, my decision -going beyond the tumultuous sky, Bearing all the stifling sensation of pains, I still fly, Because in destitution, I see no sudden gleam of insight, Since I know only by flying higher can I see the light, With the inspired ray in my eyes, I need to try. I'm done dallying in maudlin regret over the past, Since my life is moving too fast, On a fathomless speed of movement,
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