Of Pots and Pans

Taking a derelict path, With a semblance of security, Though only a whisker of it I leave for the past Which seems not far But still out of reach I am thoroughly afraid For I am to face my decisions again But My itchy toes take me back To the day when I considered myself A free young man And I remember not feeling Like an empty pot or pan turned upside down utterly useless. I am now In limbo Turning back and searching for the time When I was considered a worthy being While being extremely carefree and happy I was as worthy as the old men of the house And was not thought of as just a bootless admirer of their art I was deemed a perfect member of the highly regarded family I belonged to for simply riding a horse And treating the peasants in a cavalier fashion A king’s man I was accounted But soon I had a stubble I was ready to take on any role Even if I was offered The role of a pot or that of a pan I remained duteous at home Always at their disposal But my worth was deemed lesser than a penny For I remained unemployed And slow-witted And soon I let my austere employers take over my body And If I don’t transition into my past, laid back self soon They will take over my mind And I shall be to them Merely A vessel that can be used or turned upside down And even shattered at their convenience.