My Aim



“I wanna be a doctor!”
“I wanna be at sea!”
“I wanna be a painter!”
“And engineering for me!”

My friends then looked at me and said,
“Hey Megha, how ‘bout u?”
But all I could do was to look
And say that I don’t know…

They would but stare n say,”Oh, please!
Don’t with us play a game!
Who would be such a fool as that
Not to know her own aim?”

They made me think, they made me feel,
They made me reflect and muse,
“Am I aimless? An unwanted?
Am a born for no use?”

“Am I merely a no-one?
Simply a nobody?
A useless burden on the earth
With no identity?”

At night I slept and had a dream
Or rather had a nightmare
I was tormented by unimportance
Oh! It gave me such a scare!

Then I asked God, saying,”Oh lord!
Am I on earth just to die?
Have I no destiny to live?
Will in dust my memories lie?”

He just smiled and stroked my head,
“All are important in some course.
Created for a purpose they are.
Don’t worry! You’ll find out yours.”

With that he winked and smiled again
And vanished in thin air;
Leaving no trace of life behind
But one teaching to share.

I thought and lived, then thought to live,
And thought of liveliness;
And thought not just about an aim
But passion and happiness.

And then I found, and smiled, and thanked,
For I had now my aim –
I choose no degree, nor no fame
But Poetry – my Game.


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