Sometimes I think the situation's wrong
To then severe the blame from myself
Almost as though it were a part of me,
Thinking absolving oneself is a crime in itself,
All the while.
I discover a retrospected, yet un-inspected wrong-doing
And tug the blanket of blame over me,
And that's when another blame game
Conspires to defeat me as it calculates
The next mortal embrace
I shall make at the count of fear.

Illusory as this corporeal existence
        may be termed,
I am too glad sifting through
[This imagined existence of]
The interspaces of Time and Space.
Don’t need to be interceded for
To a space-less place-

The echoes of infinity
Tingle me, weaving infrasonic waves
Of life around me.

I can catch up with salvation
Some other day;
I'm here. Soaking in
The sun's tickle tingling me awake
The wind's whistle cooing on a dull day,
The patter of rains as it sings
A new rhythm into play.
A dog's wagging tail at my caress,
Smiles from faces familiar-unfamiliar,
Or a dance move I'd been tugging at to perfect.
Lapping up a home-cooked meal
After a long day, curling up in my bed.
Celebrating joys with an exultant jump
A high-five or a fist-pump,

Celebrating life more
Than fearing death.

I have procrastinated for months
To eventually write this poem today
Ironically, this time
The poem to be penned
Was meant to bring to an end
To my pet peeve of procrastination.

I thought my writing of it
Would be bring me face to face
[Oh, no. I am behind time and Procrastination is ahead of me.]

With procrastination.

Sometimes forever lasts just
a second
a fraction of a second
An instant.

Sometimes forever lasts
Forever.

Forever is like
light that crumples into dust
at the slightest touch.

Forever is like
the echo that never quite reaches
the bottom of the pit.

Forever is like
rekindling fire from soggy wood,
what sparks that find their life
fly away the next instant.

Forever is just out of reach.
It'll come tomorrow


Forever is gone the moment
you reach it
*until the next time

Stuck in the rut of
The (so called) dye-mentioned reality,
You walk past your oft-mentioned
Thoughts, fears, cravings, yearnings,
Learnings, ramblings and musings
Squeezing them into
[You say they were two-dimension-ed?]
Shadows that remain there,
Brain-dead,
They play havoc now
As their amoebic infinity
Spreads like an endemic,
Ending your sanity, morality, duality.
They were meant to save you either ways.
Don't you complain them thoughts of sadism yet!

There are days
When I walk out of the studio,
Disappointed with my performance,
Because today fear, not dance,
Made me finish the steps on time.
I can't mug up steps at the flick of a finger, you see.
I admit I have been lazy about self-practice.
I bet no one dances as beautifully
As I do in my visualizations
And some days I do amaze myself
As I perform the routine.
But when fear cripples me,
Paralyses my arms and limbs,
I wince at the instructor's polite rebuke
I knew it was coming.

The song is replayed,
Batchmates cheer
I wake up
My passion frees me
As I leap into the routine with a
5! 6!, and 5, 6, 7 AND. . . !!