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                                           Rubicon Crossing

                           Behold a young man in his late twenties
                           Standing silently near the swampy shore
                               Of the Rubicon, with a gentle breeze
                           Rustling his hair amidst pains to the core,
                         With grief filtering through veins of his heart
                            At the thought across the river to depart;

                             His love lies on the river`s western side
                             But between them rests a parental wall;
                       Should he, he wonders, smash the hedge aside!
                          That would lead to his beloved`s downfall
                                As she is a precious part of the wall
                          And away from her parents cannot stand tall;
   
                              It`s a wall built on the frail sand of class,
                          With himself pitched at the low ladder`s rung,
                              His love caged in lodge of mid-level glass;
                              The gap ever clings on parental tongues,
                             Shrouding him in darkish clouds of sadness
                         And stringing his soul with sorrowful sour distress.

                            Should he kneel before his sweetie`s parents?
                                        That will vanquish his dignity
                                     Be the very summit of aberrance
                                     And tear down his respectability;
                                Better leave a piece of his soul behind,
                           He conceives, than host a shame in his mind.

                                Peering down the depth of his inner self
                                 He can eye a clear light beckoning him 
                                     To cross the Rubicon river like elf,
                                  Not like a shattered soul sorry to seem
                              Bur with sheer sweat to shine up the ladder
                                   Until he can wield the envied rudder.

                            The young man pursues his inner self counsel
                             Rubicon to cross, though head and heart ache
                             Though for months he courses down a tunnel
                        Though thick mists and dark clouds he has to face,
                                  Near journey`s end he is a braver soul
                             Through wild woeful winds to achieve his goal.
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