The illusion of the familiar is a strong one
It has been the norm for years
Completely obscuring the truth
Or any semblance of it
The path is what it is said to be
And like kids and the ice cream truck
We join the never ending queue
Patiently waiting for our turn
That may never come

The carrot dangles in its crunchy juiciness
Hardly can we resist the temptation
For we have been groomed to need it
Like the children of Hamelin
We dance into the rat race
While passion,skill and desire
Slowly gravitates into oblivion
As time flies, the disillusionment is complete
The prison sentence fully operational
Lulled by the false sense of security
Dreams die, risk is buried
Subjugation and captivity is complete

The can is not made of steel bars
Neither is it made of brick walls
It is a state of mind
An invisible blockade in the mind’s eye
That leaves no room to wonder
About the road not taken
It is the beginning and end of aspiration
For a life time of adjustments
Where satisfaction becomes a mirage