Midlife Crisis

I have nothing:

I have not spread my roots in this beautiful world.
I have not built a house that shall grow old with me.
The dust on my face speaks of roads I have traveled.
My young heart is beating in a creaking body.

I am alone, but who is not alone sometime?
Who is truly never alone in this wide world?

Though I’m older:

I am but an empty vessel yet to be filled.
I am the potter’s wet clay that has not been shaped.
I am a dream, still unrealized, but not broken.
I am a traveler seeking my own destiny.

Diptesh Ghosh