An ode to indecision

When the mammoth past of history
becomes more than the past continuous,
labouriously making its way
through time soaked thoughts and dates,
expectations swerve the verve
of reputation, with an emphasis
that the subjunctive can never achieve,
nor the rhythm of hunted moments.
But, dwelling, for too long, on paths
that are mere sanctuaries
of wild fantasies
makes shallow the waters.

Infinite is the sense in the indecision
of the delicate deer - but, to be fair,
it is more than just a motion,
that prolonged step in the air,
more than just a premonition,
that makes it take that step, oh-so-dear,
with such caution, as leaves death no notion.

Ravichandran J.V.