There is a battle of wills – between the carved out path to success and a value system not in consonance with the same.
It is not a head-on collision which throws me off, but an overarching cover which hampers flight.
Fight as hard as I may, the cover is rooted somewhere deep inside me, and I’m unable to yank it off.
It defines boundaries of my existence, as if showing me my place in the scheme of things.
I need a magic formula for total transformation – to grow without roots and soil – but will that virtually real self be me, or another entity?
The coast is clear to walk, but not the sky to fly.