The ideal self

Running across an empty track,

during an afternoon when i was ten,

i had this figure of my ideal self

conquering the seventh heaven. 

A marksman of unknown territories

the protagonist of splendid stories

refracting incoming rays into 

infinite sparkles and opportunities

for them to collect and 

spread across my motherland.

A launchpad of progress,

an inflection point nevertheless,

whose time history will address

and write poetry with finesse. 

I am faster now, I drive

overtaking the crowd

in overdrive 

but can't hear myself aloud;

can't find the one 

with whom I used to run.

An endeavor of restlessness

ate up by the pleasantness

and the constant 

returns to the society's niceness.

Silence silence silence

hold your allegations

answer your own questions

before crossing over my fence

Lit your torches and

journey inwards with patience

Talk to that child first

before reading the next sentence. 

Sparks die if preserved

path to freedom is curved

so don't be reserved 

to the straight horse you served. 

Be a rabbit and 

nibble on the unique berries

chase the past, the dream,

the future of meaningful glories.

Need to fight against

the hesitation, my friend

Sense the action commenced

and determination dispensed.

Head down, back bent. 

jump with force 

and leave a dent.

Take my hand and set forth
if every word I meant

reassures your ideal self

that you'll never repent.