The plan of life, based on highest principles,
doesn't fetch bread for attached stomach.
The secondary plan, based on penultimate principles,
has long incubation period,
before it fetches bread, butter and resources,
so is the need to go with basal plan.
It fetches bread but provider sucks blood,
and all the energy of body and mind,
leaving little scope to sustain dreams higher.
What I want to do, I cannot do,
what I hate to do, I am forced to pursue.
Mind rebels as I touch the mundane work,
daily forcing of mind to do repulsive chores,
is wearing the mind out.
I feel-like to cry for help,
but all are deafened by Darwinian-din,
on-looker want their own pound of flesh..
a bite into my dignity, before they can think,
of lending a helping hand.
As the time passes, as arid sand through tight grip,
and dreams, which sustain interest in life, fade..
I sink deeper into darkness each passing day,
waiting for a ray of hope to come my way.
Soon it might be too late,
I might enter a black hole of despair,
which even the sun would dare not illuminate.
Battling against the dark-pull for decades,
had left me drained, I wish to let go,
and slip quietly into restful oblivion.