The gift of choice

You’d ask him

Why this? Why now?

He just abhors goodbyes,

To those who matter somehow.

 

Like Priam once believed,

Of all wars he had to fight.

Only fighting for love,

Seemed sensible; seemed right.

 

Winning the war,

You can’t be sure about.

But winning battles against fear;

Befits a soul stout. 

 

You are no commander,

And he is no Gladiator,

But with forces combined,

The journey would be an adventure.

 

Doesn’t matter, if average people frown,

I tell you, with experience enough,

When responsibilities push us down,

Feelings we always shove,  

But if it comes to choice,

We must always choose love.  

In between happiness and bliss

Nothing would ever make up,

For the time he dashed through.

But regrets, he’s never held any,

Life has corrected itself always, anew.

 

And this small part of his life,

Unexpected and even though an abyss,

As Chris Gardner once felt it,

Can be termed as Happiness.

 

Luck, fate, chance;

Finally stand defeated,

By a man Godless, harmless,

A beast unabashedly unashamed.

 

But bliss is what he pursues,

And the source remains locked in;

A cup of tea might sort it all,

Distances; peripheral or within.

 

Winters may not be what he likes,

But his love is always forever.

He gives himself three days,

He knows, this story is now or never.

 

Do open the gate to your heart,

Even if this seems like a déjàvu;

Because all that’s in the way,

All that went through,

Could have never been him,

It was always you.