Sometimes they spring up full-blown and disappear as quickly as they came,
phantom slivers of churning mind-scape.
I missed the mist but it found me anyway in the plain regret of mature introspection.
Astigmatisms of bygone days are twenty-twenty today.
But no mind, there's no self-incrimination.
The organic twist of living being, evolving gets made.
And we cannot twist around, and reach into the back-seat to change the past and make the road ahead engineer well.
It's best to live and let decision birth itself into this passing moment fabric-ed as life itself.
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 3:25 PM UTC
Sometimes they spring up full-blown and disappear as quickly as they came,
phantom slivers of churning mind-scape.
I missed the mist but it found me anyway in the plain regret of mature introspection.
Astigmatisms of bygone days are twenty-twenty today.
But no mind, there's no self-incrimination.
The organic twist of living being, evolving gets made.
And we cannot twist around, and reach into the back-seat to change the past and make the road ahead engineer well.
It's best to live and let decision birth itself into this passing moment fabric-ed as life itself.
By my beloved father, Prem K. Shastri...
One heck of a genius.
Request permission to use this poem