the Kite puller!

Directionless so often, I’m way-less for sure.
As glides the kite high, in the endless azures;
Had heard this analogy for long I,
But felt its depth now, smiling, I sigh!



Multihued, the open is dotted with colour,
Swishing swirling and circulating higher and more,
Bright as they pep me up, glimmer they and shimmer.
I’m one of the bubbles that life up the blues as I flutter.



I transform into a smile as I soar high,
Rage takes over me, if someone else passes me by.
Kite or me, rejoice post victory;
Even panic at times, or at others turn we greedy.



The gale carries it, as to me the air around me.
I do nothing, but follow the race with glee.
At times its peace and am free,
Storms take its test, testing my spirit my synergy.



My endurance or the string’s strength,
Determination or thread well bent.
Aimless or swaying in the wind entwined,
Enjoy it I, and it worries my mind.



Call it string or call it spirit;
That’s the soul that runs it.
It may be the kite or I,
That soul is what veers us by.