Almost

After a serpentary
I almost went into the monastery,
For feelings so immense and tense
Can break our hearts and,
Luckily, not our will.

Do you recall me still?
To me you were not physical,
Oh, not at all!
Like an atoll
You were an island of high
And inspirational
Maturity and wisdom.

Now the world is built by people in a way
They are kept captive
By their families,
So they forget all the ideals
Of wanderlust.

Do you remember my words of dignity?
I promised (or implied)
That by a certain day
A book of poems would be published.

Guess what happened?

They all keep pondering and judging,
And they keep telling me it would be out so soon.

Relentless destiny, like a platoon,
Hangs in the air.

In fact,
My promise was fulfilled.

The book is ready.

Hope there'll be some more - in a galore
Of words in which you literally have no trust -

You have all rights to think so -

I accept
The gift of insecurity in which

All people still consider
Themselves innately so bewitched
By means of science.

Life's been playing tricks on both of us.

How far are you from home?

I've spend more than 10 nights
In clearing snow from city's streets
Which used to give an air of posh resemblance
To golden rays of ever-glowing heat.

My book is like a child.
Don't let it be defeated
By its opponents, vivid and so vicious.

Even when my hands would tremble, cut by cold,
The overall impression was delicious.