If I had a choice…

Then I’d be a traveler,

Constantly moving from place to place,

There’s so much to see the world over,

Meeting new people – registering a new face,

Life is short – we’ll almost never make time,

Especially if you have chosen the corporate ladder to climb,

Best – you may never have to hear the same sort of lies,

Having to meet the same kind of people you simply despise.

 

Or I could be a charity volunteer,

What nobler act than spreading joy and cheer?

To reach out to people who need help the most,

Ingrain in them the very same hope that we feared lost,

But the inner voice said – ‘pity! For you will have no income,’

‘Living off the goodwill of people, which may never come.’

 

Or I could be the mercurial musician,

With my limited muse and inspiration,

But backed up with sufficient zeal and aspiration,

Though age isn’t on my side – Tchaikovsky offers the exception,

But the inner voice said – ‘tsk, to be a busker or a hopeless bard,’

‘You must not have realized that life is itself already hard’.

 

Or like when young, I dreamt of being a cartoonist!

Corrupting young minds with outlandish ideas,

Panels of simplistic art – to be like Tintin is the gist,

And take it from me – your fans will thank you for this,

But the inner voice cautioned – ‘either you’re as brilliant as Bill Watterson ’,

‘Or you could end up with drawings nobody is arsed to discern.’

 

So, I asked the inner voice- ‘ you’re getting me at every turn, wherefore I don’t know’,

The inner voice lay silent – to dignify a reply it would not care,

To which I say – ‘are you my conscience and that you want me to grow.’

‘Or are you a detractor – idealizing my beautiful dream as veritable nightmare?’

The inner voice finally spoke – ‘I’m neither, because it matters not a jot.’

‘What matters is – are you asking too little in life or demanding a lot?’

‘Why are you concerned with even what I think and to beg to be allowed a sneak peek?’

‘When you actually already have all the answers that you seek…’

 

 

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