Subtle

A pursuit begins, a journey starts,

It starts with a foul cry.

I don’t understand, if it’s a cry of joy

Or weep of a saddened toy.

Time advances, so does life.

A long journey or a sojourn is a thing to decide.

A string of time, we try to fill

With pearls of dreams, down the frill.

A battle lost is always lame,

A race won means a diamond’s fame

A boon is it when one’s on the grass,

A bane to find it’s less green than the class.

A pursuit as it began,

A race as it is, life is just to run

In the madness of headless minds

To hurt your feet and to crack down on the spikes.

Of all its hardness, with all its madness,

Life still has the beauty of amorousness.

A feeling that keeps one’s heart pumping,

A hope that keeps one’s life moving.

Love is what you need,

Care is what you want,

A dream to pursue and a will to run.

But then life is so hard that

It’s a chase against time to end up with no time.

When I look back at the end of the race,

I realize, I am lamer on my loss,

Than on the diamond’s fame.

I realize, when you want it, you don’t have it,

And when you have it, you don’t need it.

Life is just to lose time to win a race.

But then, at the end, I realized the rule of ebony

That life is such a “Subtle Irony”.