Unscratched Itch

Like uncared unfulfilled wishes creeping to the fore Irresistible! Impossible, yet? Dilemmatic? Shy about removing the robe that might reveal the core Could the cut be covered with the costliest cosmetic? Disgruntled, like a lion brooding over a lost prey This itch turns into karma leading to endless rebirth It becomes the root of my yokes on which I have no say Expect I dare to scratch till stern stillness surrounds the girth. Uprooting the weeds, forever, might be the best solution Could we pluck out the plants because they trouble a little? Rubbing with a hard surface might be a substitution. Though commonality amidst these acts is mere brittle If thirst, physical or spiritual, is timely quenched The fulfillment of the heart will never be wrenched.