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A flight from perfection

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?

Posted in poetry on November 29, 2006


4 Responses

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  1. Vijay says

    Beautiful poem.

    We don’t all have pristine lives, you know..

  2. Dinesh says

    Awesome poem! Good to see you writing again :)

  3. anjali says

    True, so true. Echo Vijay’s comment.

  4. Surya says

    Thanks guys.
    Welcome, Dinesh, to SE.

    I guess ‘pristine’ could be a relative word. Everyone has a life which they think their conscience can put up with – In fact, that’s all I meant by pristine here. And then one fine day, we may end up doing something that goes beyond our own borders – perhaps that’s what add color to our lives?



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