The Struggle

Problems are not my issue, fear it is.

There has to be a start, the beginning to an end, -

End to the might of fright,

 Like a creeper I rose tall and wide, but not without support.

Rose to the heights, smiling at the sunshine, -

Pretty but frail,

I lost focus and there was someone to magnify my aim,

I fell and had hands to lift me and buck me up,

Friends, philosophers, guides, have helped me rise and shine.

But rising is no more my aim; standing firm is.

I refuse to take assistance,

A helping hand will do more harm than good.

Friends, philosophers and guides is not what I need,

Predicaments are not simple any more, to explain,

What is the need to explain?

Let me fall, let me cry, but let me reach out to myself.

In the darkest corners of mind does one find illumination.

I want to touch the light, that, that shines within me.

What if the world thinks I am able, let me realize I have it in me.

For, its just I who knows what I am.

The fear of drowning has taught me to swim,

Let me touch the danger; let me know what it is to stand up on my own.