Posted in Poetry

Certain lines


We walk with sure confident steps on border lines

with assured steps on our frontiers of truths

Bravely stamping our correct feet on lines

where others tread softly,

where others weave with stumbling hesitant toes

on those gray hazy areas of life and living

Ageless angels, amused smile from above  

at vain volubility, at clutchings and colonisations of truths and certainties

at manifestions of frailty disguised at strength

acts that separate the sage from the stupid

the clever from the crafty

the persistent from the pigheaded

the strong willed from the self willed

the steadfast from the obstinate


We do not fumble, we do not stumble

Others do

We walk straight and correct,

riding our high horses

on our moral high grounds

as we plod on in quest

often of uncertain certainties

revealing our core, our true essence

by the frequency and the duration of our swings and shuttles

to one side or the other of the border

by our predilection for certain points, our assured truths

by the constancy with which

we hold to the single light,

to our single right,  guided by our perfect sights

to those truths which we see

and which million others fail to see

so miserably, so pitiably