A Bottled-Up Life
Time was from the constricting walls of adolescence,
when I felt that life was one heavy onus dropped on me.
In which society's demands on life reigned supreme.
That life was one of purpose, and of destiny.
That life stayed within certain acceptable boundaries,
Bottled up and neatly labeled for good measure.
Acquire actionable knowledge and passable skills,
Sufficient enough to raise and support a healthy family,
to dutifully enlist in civilization's inexorable forward march.
All artfully designed to fulfill destiny and sustain humanity.
So it came to be for me, to fit snugly as a compliant cog,
in an efficient and ever-whirring machine of grand design.
But routines started to leak out and break apart.
I ceased working for a living and commenced living for life.
It was then I felt a crying need from a gaping hole within.
The urge to lend to words to life events and inspiring ideas,
racing through my suddenly awakened mind,
all loudly vying for time and space.
Taking reins were pesky things that wanted to rule my life.
Of some deterministic obsession about what I ought to do.
Driven to extremes by compulsion hard to shunt aside.
All this I found awaited me like a siren call.
With reluctant gusto, I did what had to be done.
Committed to the written word dimly-lit memories in mind.
Egged on by some formidable duress within,
coupled with urgency of life about to be extinguished.
And now having gone out the wringer, I feel completed.
A published book it shall be for posterity and heritage.
One designed to transcend the limits of temporal life.
And hopefully, worthy enough for those near and dear.
