Endeavours with quicksand
Image courtesy: Krystian Piatek
Fooled myself to be an oasis.
It consumed the whole of me
And spat morsels of my flesh,
which was carefully seamed together
By a cart carrying passengers.
The passengers sewed me in love and motivation
And stopped me from pulling the cart
Out of my wails in deep dread of the quicksand.
We travelled in the cart to a destination
That's a meadow of contentment.
Our journey was hard with peaks and valleys
With my howlings as impediments
passing through my flood of tears.
The passengers grew jaded and jaded,
Of sewing the hollow pits in me
And one fine day, they ceased to sew.
I pulled the cart and jumped down
Only to find me
Gummed in quicksand,
Like it is my home
I failed to acknowledge.
This time, I breathed
And let the quicksand succumb me,
The quicksand tired of my nonchalant ways,
Hawked me emphatically,
That I reached the meadow of contentment,
Raw, Whole and firm.
.
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