My world

When I was younger, the world 

beckoned me to explore it,  

to play football on the streets 

using the gates of houses as  

goals, to ride my bicycle into 

neighbouring districts, finding  

unfamiliar faces my age and  

befriending them, but as I grew 

older, I sought to bring the world 

to my dimensions, to hold its  

length, breadth and depth in  

my palm as if I were a god,  

the beginning and  

the end, the Alpha and the Omega, 

the eternal now who conquered  

reality with his imagination,  

but this made me grow smaller — 

tinier and tinier, until I became as 

infinitesimal as a sigh, a little  

fly hovering around in a gloomy  

apartment with dim lighting.  

Then passive and resigned,  

I settled for nothing,  

I gave up the ghost, though I  

still walked, my utterances  

becoming monosyllabic,  

my thoughts adrift in no-man’s-land,  

but now, after years of struggling  

with myself, boxing my shadow 

and trying to grasp purpose,  

I feel a nascent hope glowing,  

still amorphous, but within reach. 

It doesn’t usher me to mystical  

peace or a raw communion with  

nature. It doesn’t demand sacrifice  

or conflict or the quotidian giving  

and receiving of love. It only asks me 

to accept myself, to shed diffidence  

and learn to be.

Photo by Saketh Garuda on Unsplash

13 responses to “My world”

  1. This poem is filled with such wonderful hope. I don’t know if we can ever regain that wonder and acceptance of the world we had when we were children, but it seems that you have found the next best thing.


    1. Thank you so much Tanmay 😊 I was reading a book by Rollo May today, and a lot of what he said made so much sense. He talked about how the Calvinistic or Puritanical ideal of putting yourself down is detrimental to one’s psychological development. He urged people to love themselves and argued that it isn’t pride. And for once, I found a little catharsis and relief from the guilt which tormented me for so many years. And so, I wrote this poem. I haven’t finished his book yet, and I don’t know what the future holds, but I guess there’s always hope. Not the wonder we had as children (it would be amazing to have that again) but a different, more mature awe that could help us get through difficult days.


  2. Beautiful poem ❤ This is really deep. I especially love how the last few lines imply that we don't owe anyone a penance to be able to accept ourselves.


    1. Thank you so much Sylvia ♥️ Yeah we definitely don’t owe anybody penance to accept ourselves. I think getting rid of unnecessary guilt and starting to grow into ourselves is a mark of great progress. I’m still working on it as I speak!


  3. As we grow older, we learn, that the world is not as, beautiful, that life isn’t, as easy, we become, socialized by our, environment, and we react to things we come into contact with, based off of the, earliest experiences of life in our, infancy, years


    1. Very true. Infancy and the early years shape much of the patterns we fall into as we grow older.


  4. A coming-of-age stretching feeling in this poem that gives you such a sense of comfort as you read. And the image complements it so well 🙂


    1. Thank you so much 😊 When I wrote it, I didn’t think of a Bildungsroman, but reading it, I feel what you felt. I’m glad it gave you a sense of comfort.


      1. Is that what it’s called! Ha ha, thanks.


  5. Nitin, this is definitely one of the more profound and relatable pieces that I have had the pleasure of reading recently!



    1. Thank you so much David! That means a lot to me!


  6. Once we hit rock bottom, the only way is up…I love how you ended it with hope and realistic acceptance. Wonderful write, Nitin.


    1. Thank you so much Punam. I sometimes end my poems on a tragic note, and so, this was a change of sorts.


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About Me

Ordinary Person is a guy who likes to write. He writes fiction, essays, poems and other stuff.


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