Each at his or her own
I travelled contrast pursuits
Tried to hide what I am and what
I felt with the fear of being deduced by anyone
I have scrimmaged with calculations
I have hustled with chemicals and solutions
I seemed like a mad man chasing houseflies
On a hot afternoon, only trying to live to the levels of others.
But then I enraptured
Not mortal love, but bibliophilic love
I read all works of Shakespeare , Austen, Fitzgerald, Achebe, Greene, Camus, Dickens and Orwell
And after absorbing I stopped reading as a reader , but a writer.
And I had feelings that kept awake all night
Then I met ballardry , courtesy Of Shakespeare
And now my heart settles at my passion