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| Courtesy: Twitter |
Staring down over a grave of dreams
I observe a billion good intentions go
to rut
Solitary reapers on the verge of
picking the gleanings
But falling just shy of their mature expectations.
Never made it but almost
Dreams coming thro but not quite
fulfilled,
Lives well lived… almost.
Destinies moderately decoded.
I wonder how many millions have trucked
this way;
What each heart would pour out and
lay bare
If they were offered another shot to
set things straight.
Would they make akin mistakes or throw
in their best?
Because in the tomb where dreams are laid
to rest
Only uncorrupted half-assed undertakings
Narrate tales of aborted victories,
And paint pictures of triumph’s grave
defeats.
Akpan
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