An ode to the smudges in our pristine lives
I glance pensively at my long lived life
I see a pure white sheet with a lone dark stain;
And I can’t help but reminisce on that sordid spot.
Many a years have passed since that eventful day
Yet how could I ever forget the guilt of a misdeed done?
An escape from my usual self, an adventure to remember.
All around me are the good deeds done, praises sung,
Yet, etched forever in my mind, is none but the infernal one;
It never ceases to amaze, the power, of my flight from perfection.
Call it not guilt, call it not shame, for it deserves a better name
A journey to lands hitherto unseen, a search for the last missing slice,
Do I delude myself, or could it be that a tarnish is really the art of life?