Me

Who am I?
A face with a nose, a mouth, and an eye?
A smile, a tear, and a sigh?
Born to live and live to die?
What exactly, am I?

A physical entity, a mental essence,
A biological activity, and a spiritual presence!
Travelling a journey, which is continuous,
Playing a part , on the worldly dais!
No sir, I don’t know my dialogues.

What is it that identifies me?
What is it that defines me?
How does the world envisage me?
Where is it that I can discover me?
Who is it that I should be ?

Identified by attitude,
Defined by character,
Envisaged as a rational,
Discovered in the thoughts,
All I need, to be human?

Is life just about being human?
Is it not the quest, a desire
To be unique, to be different,
For others to see and emulate!
And write our own fate….?

Isn’t it the root of ambition?
Isn’t it the soul’s mission,
To make a mark upon the world,
To create a different mould,
Bearing your mark of perfection.

But then , when I embark,
On this journey in the dark,
I grope for lights,
In the stormy nights,
Searching for the path.

Yes, I find the lights,
From people who had fights,
Along some paths, to reach their goals,
From people who like me, are still
Journeying, carried by their will.

I stick to those lights,
I stick to those paths,
I stick to those hands,
I stick to those wills,
But , sadly , not the same goals.
And now, I find my ghosts gone,
With the wind, in the night all alone,
And now, I ‘m lost in the well,
Of those paths, the lights are the wall,
I feel I’ve lost my soul.

I can hear it’s shriek,
I can hear it yell,
And now, I experience the hell,
No, no, I don’t want others paths,
I don’t want those others lights.

I want freedom, independence,
Of thought, action, and attitude,
You can’t dictate it to me,
You can’t impose it on me.,
I want to get out of this well.

For no known ambition
Has been achieved by submission,
Aided by the strength to stand,
Up for one self, aided by the
Courage to find your own path,
Aided by the faith in the sight,
That can itself be the light,
In the darkness, of any night.
And then my friend, no wall
Can stand the wrath of will,
No more will the paths be cold and shrill,
For you’ll have showed the path to millions,
To follow, to try and search for one’s path
Oneself, without the light, but with the fight,
And then, I guess, you’ll answer ” What am I?”