The Perennial Chain

Poetry is like booze to me. It doesn’t happen everyday, and delights when it happens. It’s perfect channel when you have an outburst of emotions. And definitely, an outburst doesn’t happen everyday.

I was thinking about writing this poem since many days now. And it took shape today (though slightly different from what I had intended, as always!)

The Perennial Chain

Change is inevitable they say,
But how fickle is the term ‘they!’
Behold humans and it may sound:
Change is the rarest thing around.

Theories, trends, beliefs they hold,
They’re all false, let them be told,
Once alone and all realise,
Their firmly held belief dies.

It’s all false, I reiterate,
Yet we don’t love to hate,
Fail to hate and love to adore,
And The Stranger turns a stranger more.

Winners are born, as change is rare,
Losers by the side stand and stare,
They have just one common thread:
Ponderings – some love some dread.

Winners and losers don’t think alike,
Yet they both seem to like,
A common thought – it can be heard:
‘Beliefs are false and illusion is this world.’

Warnings realise even inside your shell,
Sweet prophecies may fail in your dwell,
Your ‘self’ is what the universe cares,
And change, again I say, is rare.

Losers are caught in this perennial chain,
Their fears come to fore and hopes all drain,
Winners are those who get off the web,
But aren’t they born to free themselves?