The walk.

On the plane, the line in sleep,
Behind is an abyss deep,
Where pests from the past want to climb and creep,
From the line, there is surge of dreams gushing ahead for peace…
Not knowing whether to drown the creeps in to steep…

On start point one, Standing on the line,
The gush makea me want to take a walk,
Thin line easy to break,
When I tread, many things at stake,
Not to break, I stay awake…

The walk on the line is the reality,
I look left, there is past absurdity,
Behind the absurdity, some felicity…
Some felicity because of silly vanity,vanity-infinity...
Some felicity wanting help, indicating virtuosity…


I look down, virtuosity in abysmal drown,
I look above, the surges are curving above the line towards there to dream on,
Into the infinite plane, but only at the ends far from start point one…
The infinite plane, unseen but on its path everything sane,
I begin to walk from point one for my immaculate sane gain…

The line fragile, I can’t run,
Perseverance is the only fun,
Patience is the only reaction,
Energy used and I reach end point one…
Looking right, climbing curve from then on…

As I gaze right, all the spheres of life come around,
They propose, contemplate, investigate and surround…
Was it cut with the plane dreams surged-
Perpendicular or parallel and right angled?
Perpendicular or parallel and not right angled?


Mirrors in the hand,
Indicate the other-way round…

Does it show the end point second?
It is for me to look at it right eyed,
And the nature of the curve I should find,

The bend to tread,on the fine thread,
By patiently climbing ahead…