For a horse of a race marathon
To pretend to tend a kitchen garden
And feign running by jogging at a spot
It’s all a nice hide and seek game.
To run with the hare and hunt with the wolf
It’s rough and tough to live so dangerously
Yet to stay put is but the Hobson’s choice
For to know how to wait is a heroic trait.
While on the brass-tacks, at times it’s hard to take
That when all seems to be lost that all is saved
But what is this hue and cry, after all
If winter comes, can spring be far behind?
Platitudes galore, irritating and hard-nosed
It’s a dog-eat-dog world, un-humane
And the apparition of the future growing
Larger everyday and ever intimidating.
Of good and bad or art and beauty
Tomes abound by a plethora of authors
Then why is it that Truth Good and Beauty
Stay as distant as ever, the more we aspire.
Log on to love then rather than to logic
That is the cue since time immemorial
Give must not spur any give and take
The time-worn words are the life-giving props.