An awkwardly structured poem dedicated to the almost-one-day-never-too-late travel journalist who once told me that passion sometimes dies – well, it never does.
You seek it; this dream, this ambition, this ability.
It sits and waits for you in a gleam of possibility.
I see it when you speak, when your eyes light up at its word.
Unconsciously pursuing this deafening, soon to not be unheard.
So don’t utter like a pessimist, telling me it’s the end.
True, the last hurdle’s the highest and a broken bone won’t mend.
Maybe the gun was shot too early and you ran with staggered feet.
But the will to run never abandoned and neither was it beat.
If trial was met with failure at least regret left without any cries.
Because chance is worth the chase and passion, it never dies.
© 2015 Pia Krishnankutty & springtidevoice. wordpress.com All Rights Reserved