Unfathomed delight

Is this just what it seems to be?
Or just another mirage, for my soul wants to loiter,
To stray; easy and free.
Against the odds, the conventions, the fears
Working is the hither struggling device
Is this not just another moment
In which my logic dies?

Not has been a moment of remorse
That I had seemed to bear in this course,
For I have looked upon everything
Just as a necessary price…
For lessons are to be learned, to be cherished, to bloom
And for that, this is a device.

© Snehal Sahay 2014

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