The Stairs

When I climbed up the stairs leading to my home on a misty night
did it ever cross my mind,
that whatever ascends is meant to descend again.
So, I who once was incomplete now descend down as a puzzle on the lane.
To be blown away by the wind as everything that comes drifts away.
So, here I gather my pieces on the streets where once the child within used to play.
Piece by piece I create a new frame of mind.
Even though I fall apart in the land of dust, I unwind.
In the playground of the world I play along,
with the acceptance that I can go wrong.
I can cheat the world but not myself, so on the right path hardly taken I move on.
I know as long as I hold on to my belief, I will remain strong.
I opt for being a puzzle to be solved than a picture of beauty to be framed on the wall from dusk to dawn.
Unless I had descended the stairs from my shelter I would not have learnt that the journey must go on.



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