By Myself

To feed a restless octopus
that gripped my mind,
I gathered untold thoughts.
Perpetually rethinking,
for constant reassurance
and a proof of perfection.
Write for a reader, they said…
Alas I began,
to play for the crowd.

I was occupied enough,
not to pen a word,
But crazy enough
to keep scribbling each minute.
Be wild, they said…
to conquer your angsts.

But midway on the path,
I halt and look back...
Have I given away much
or did I lose my own touch?
A thirst continues,
to see what waits
on the other side.
How would I know,
if I never tried.

Away from a world
too busy to look up
from its bourgeois mediocrity,
a story unfolds with every mood.
I grow into a woman
and become a child again.
Where dreams translate
as flambuoyant rainbows,
I visit that place once more ---

All by myself.

~ Crafted from a conversation with a good old friend. Self-indulgence or soup for the soul …

Writing --- to each his own.