...tantalized

And the renegade trailed on the ground on a sweltering May afternoon, leaving behind a little pitcher and reached the well which was a distant sight an orbit ago. What was to be witnessed could have easily been anticipated, had the tramp not disdained the voices in ALL his heads. It was a chasm full of dust, relics and grit. Even the skies were a bittersweet spread. Not a single bead of water... What could be done?

Its not a new story.
This is a story of you and me.

If I call us sailors,
We've all been lured by the sweet humming of the sirens.
Caged and tormented at least once.

We take pink for granted and run after blacks and grays.

Its as though somebody sang a song so chimerical,
blew a whammy, whacks and spells-
and caught us derelict.

To address my fellow greedy and ignorant sophomores, I'd like to use a much simpler dialect.
Life tantalizes us all the time. Life is a trap. Beauty a bait. Need I tell who the rat here be? :-)

We often turn a blind eye to what lies in front of us. Like the renegade did with the pitcher which was in reality, full of elixir and not even water. Showing no love to his dead salivary glands, he drags himself in adverse circumstances to a pit full of misfortune.

The cliched " Life is too short to err " comes into play. It would be so much better if we could put to use the paraphernalia granted to us.

Let us all open our minds,
Let us all learn when to kill a wish,
Let us all LIVE BEFORE WE DIE.