A Dance of Choices: Research or Poetry
For two years, I've woven verses like threads of gold,
Yet in the shadows, my unfinished research whispers,
A ghost from the past, beckoning me to mend the frayed edges,
Now and then, I stumble into a fog, yearning to complete the tapestry left undone.
The research demands ten hours, six days a week,
A relentless tide that pulls me under,
If fortune smiles, perhaps a pearl of wisdom will surface in months,
Success is a fickle companion, but the quest is my steadfast companion,
No riches or renown await me, just the quiet reward for a curious mind.
Poetry, on the other hand, flows like a river of emotions,
Crafted with the brushstrokes of my soul,
No coins clink in my pocket here,
My father would chuckle, calling it a venture in folly.
Yet, whether I reap gold or not,
If these creations ignite joy within my heart,
They gift me a sense of triumph, a balm for my restless spirit.
Copyright ©
Jay Narain
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