At nineteen,

I chose my path and all it had,

Unknowing of others

With more spirit, kindness and equal strength

Who could make my journey

True and meaningful.

At eighteen,

She chooses to follow galaxies

Laughing about observations made

From my own life.


I spent a lifetime struggling-

To survive, to just be.

My hands were calloused with holding

Weapons forged in life’s hot fires;

Fighting every inch of the way.

She tells me that life is better spent

If the tides are chosen well,

To swim easily, not fighting for every breath.


At cross roads, I often stumbled

Mistaking smiles for love:

Not realising that the sharpest fangs

Are hidden in the sweetest intonations

Of welcoming companionship.

She tells me that at cross roads,

All which matters is an unfailing compass

That marks out the pole star

Of your own destiny.


At  unforgiving transitions then,

May you fare better than I did, my child.

And may my failures be

Your inspirations

For always choosing better:

Cross checking with your inner eye-

That unfailing star, unerring compass,

That Kindly light,

Showing you the Way.


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