It's Not Too Late
IT'S NOT TOO LATE
God gave me a blank diary, its pages numbered,
and in the hand of destiny a pencil for my take
when I came in this beautiful world enamored
to write the distinctive story of my life I’d make.
I traveled a winding path, destination unreached,
couldn’t get niche in many hearts, I tried in vain,
In storm strife found the bridges I built breached,
a lone drifter in desolate wasteland I did remain.
On the pages of my diary I truly wrote my story,
turning its leaves now I don’t find it charismatic.
I wonder if it is what in life I was destined to be,
a futile anecdote so very mundane and miasmic.
I don’t know why thus far life utterly failed me,
I ask God for second chance an eraser can I get
to erase the old narrative, construct new story.
The sun hasn’t set, maybe it’s not too late yet.
January 19, 2019
Copyright © Subimal Sinha-Roy | Year Posted 2019
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