While perusing the work of a famous poet I found two kinds of poems in it: one, with impeccable rhyming lines that made for an engaging read and second, lines with no sense of rhyming and yet they read profound.
It made me introspect: whenever Life gave me a line, a situation, I got busy searching the correct rhyming line for it so that the poem of my life too read like others did. I don't know why I was made to believe if I was doing what everyone else was it was the right thing. It took me away from myself because my existence became a game-of-reactions with Life. It would give me a situation and I would react to it in a conditioned manner. Basically, rhyming with my life’s lines made me conform to what most people were, may be, but more importantly what I was not.
Done with the poetry I concluded I shall let Life choose whatever line it wants to and I’ll choose mine. After all it’s my life. And I should be the one to decide whether to rhyme Life’s lines with something we all are conditioned to do from the beginning or react to it with something that I as an individual prefer.