Something Missing

In youth’s embrace, friends and games entwined,

Yet unexplored realms in the playground of time…

*

Early on, I delved into the world of written lore,

Yet the vast literature beckons, inviting me for more…

*

Heart and mind spill, ink on paper’s embrace,

Countless words unwritten, lingering in space…

*

Workdays filled with tasks, a bustling array,

Unfinished projects, shadows of the day…

*

As night descends, aspirations to finish rise high,

Lingering tasks persist beneath the moonlit sky…

*

Love and marriage, embraced with delight,

Yet many desires linger, hidden from sight…

*

A house constructed, with enthusiasm grand,

Yet a sense of incompleteness, shifting like sand…

*

Children educated, jobs secured in stride,

Shortcomings endure, shadows by their side…

*

Mother’s funeral pyre, the last farewell,

Departed like father, but tales left to tell…

*

Emotions swell, leaving a void, in silent guise.

Reflections flood eyes, yet within a reservoir lies…

*

Regret surfaces, missed opportunities unfold,

Yet fuels passion, as stories remain untold…

*

Navigating life’s course with many aspirations untold,

Till perfection’s divide with imperfection loses its hold…

–Kaushal Kishore 

images: pinterest

30 Comments

  1. Meaningful poem. I loved it. The tales told are meant to be, and stories untold are still meant to be. We will be here until our purpose is fulfilled, and once that’s done, no matter what’s left, we’ll have to go.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. This was a compelling journey, KK. So much left undone. Passion lingers beneath the surface as duty and life has to take priority, but yet she calls to us everyday of life. I loved this one sir. 👏👏

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Thank you, Kaushal, for this Sunday treat! Beautifully versed the story of human life, your life, but it could apply to many of us, and for that reason, your reflections resonate with me. As you would know, Kushal, I love your mention your beloved mother, and many untold stories about her.

    Our lives are like an open book with last page still blank, and that is what is thankfully missing, as the whole knowledge would be detrimental to our wellbeing.

    I love the images!

    Joanna

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much, Joanna! I’m elated that this resonates with you. Nobody knows how many blank pages are still left of the book. So it’s better to write some meaningful notes with love. Happy you liked the poem and images!

      Like

  4. Brilliant!! Yes, the muse calls throughout the many stages of life with the pull to pick up the pen…perhaps the pull is encouragement bud to hold on to the dream until…until life’s experiences give the poet/ writer the time and space to pour out what has blossomed within.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. I love the dichotomy of feelings that are in each stanza of this poem, fullfillment and loss, time seems infinite but is always indefinite and ultimately finite, ever retreating goals and hope–at times attained and yet continually slipping away or ahead. A lot of feelings and thoughts in those few words.

    Liked by 1 person

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