Have I said enough?
Nothing more to reflect and nothing more to say,
Enough and no more; did I cover it all completely?
Days may roll over into months, and months into years,
Impervious yet, never the need to say anything more on this...
Alas! Everything doesn’t happen at once; else, what could Time mean to any one,
An instalment in reality is what we get through in each instance of Time and no more,
As of today, what I know is what I assume; and that undoubtedly will mature some more tomorrow,
Today, I had hoped to have said enough to seal my lips forever; but will my retirement stick through?
What defines my identity?
Being the son of my father and the torchbearer of familial legacy; possibly...
And what does my identity task me with?
To indistinguishably seed the next generation of the genealogy chain; perhaps...
Life is life’s longing for itself,
It may conform not to any preset moulds of traditions and definitions,
In the endgame, my epitaph would only bear testimony to where I ended – not where I started,
And my progeny, when it arrives, may not even tarry with my today; forget my parents’ yesterday...
So, it may be then – no one belongs to any one,
Identities get chiselled by one’s own voluntary doing,
Yet my soul dwells in that house I grew, the hearth and my family,
Publicly – I may be what I am; but privately – I am still my father’s son....