‘Not Yet’
He found himself amidst a hailstorm,
About to go airborne,
Dangerous thoughts floated with unease,
But ‘no’, he thought, ‘Not yet.’
His head was ice cold,
His toes, as if stuck in raw gold,
And his body, just about to fold,
But ‘no’, he thought, ‘Not yet.’
His once clear path,
Remained filled with frozen flakes
And his once clear dream,
Found itself fractured in front of his face,
An aspirant, a thriver,
to be but a mere survivor,
Get Daksh Singh’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
And just because of those green few,
His life was left askew.
But even after all these tragedies struck,
‘No,’ he thought, ‘Not yet.’
The bandwagon rumbled, and they all jumped on,
They called him a failure, a fraud, a con,
And as the vehicle went right past,
The truth remained,
The ‘different’ were the wrong,
And the opinionated were the flawed.
This isn’t a poem.
It’s a reality, a realisation,
And a suppressed voice that vows its last breath to a cause,
Because no matter what, he’ll remember what he always thought:
‘No, just not yet.’
