my thoughts and experience; cropped and sowed, again and again

Uncertainity lies at the core
of tumbling and tossings
where a plane-scent now becomes
awkwardly undecent moment next

And of all barrens,
though bright at top
with grass and hay,
makes muddy slop with
endangering thickness;
and only till you hold
out arm as long,
will you dig in deep
with atleast a chance
of help and escape, or
shoud I say with
a sane life ahead but
with enough blockers
to put you out at will

Near is only seemingly
coz it never nears enough,
and at times when it seems
does it shake and stirr
the very moment to capture
so much so as to make
the moment loose from self,
and take the blame for
a lost chance and its deity

Though not much but hours,
still all those left only
brood and seeth the lost,
and not bask with the one
that cometh way-long next;
maybe they know of this,
only to be held tightly
till block after block
and pain on pain shoved-in
take their toll foray-ed
and make 'this' seem
another seemingly touch
yet away, far...

So, as it again 'seems',
admist rain and cloud
I land on territory
known for ages as mine
but unknown now of thine
and with shaky soul
as I write now and then
does it get really calm
when at the center lies
the same uncertain core

Wished, did I, more?
or was I not able for?
Seeth, had they?
then, failed why
to alarm?
Cometh, it didnt
and still left
in lurch, of pain?
Or knoweth YOU did
and still chose to
hand on, lame?
Then, at all, why,
why should it be;
why should it stay;
why I YOU they it,
feel the same
one way or the other,
ever?

Lost, left, cropped
and abysmally dropped
to now, then,
but till when...
reaping your deeds
as you DID sow own
and learning again
only to forget
and cry, and to
blame and fry.
why...
tell me, o mind
tell me, o heart
tell me, o all
that have watched me
from inside years all;
why
and
till when...