The Razor’s Edge


Tiny, ephemeral, inconsequential it seems

yet, in its bosom lies, all that will be

conquests, battles, loss and love

gateway of all, is, the moment “to be”


what I do, think, where intention lies

in this tiny speck of time

sets in motion, the events flywheel

that crowns me king or undoes me


fountainhead of future paths

lie hidden in its mysterious heart

what comes to pass, what will be

is predicated on it, entirely


love or hate, laze or toil

are the seeds I plant in its garden soil

crops abound, in due time

exactly, but of their own kind


its the Razor’s edge that sets apart

the bold and brave, from faint of heart

in beads of sweat that adorn its lap

curled up lies our destiny


with grateful heart i receive this gift

sacred, magical, powerful it is

chisel thats given to all alike

to shape the contours of our life


in course of time not far away

this gift will exhaust one day

reflecting on how I treated it

will my heart be full or will it bleed?

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