Excuse me please : I am a born Noble

Prelude: This makes you wince , I know !

But, I seek no apologies for putting you through this!

Excuse me please : I am a born Noble

I don’t just sit. I descend

With Pro fella logics— I fill up the space with much extravagance

Perhaps, it’s a seat, bludgeoning, with no last calls of commanding flagships,

A sacred harmony gently cohorts, unraveling—thereof, a ten times in tenfolds of mindful beliefs

O! What a splendor, as of, so casted in steady steads ;

Thereupon as if —it’s immortality paying off its eyeful heeds

And while heavenly graces, so such robust;

and least to mention-Each-

Yes, each eye gathering upon that bequeathed sleep

Yes, I seek, with a purpose true and deep,

That which belies on that four legged cushy steed,

Luring me into counting sheep 💤

And so, I sit!

An aid for crisis, except, with no other pro-visions to keep

This heralding seat with its dimensions etched— 4 by 4 feet,

Putting all life beyond any other psyching feat !

And so, in that, I sit!

It’s one job higher, clamping me to its feet,

With fealty crowns,

Conquering all weathered downs,

Fancy Scoot —it emerges from nowhere, as a tempting plead

Therein, I sit!

Yes, it’s a retreat for those armies of unending fatigues,

Seeking martyrdom as to possibly believe,

Posing in a sort of quarantined repeats,

All to capture that unflinching defeat!

And so, I sit!

Hey listen ! 👂

Must you learn to like this seat;

It’s much like —just— as it is;

‘Coz it’s a job much more superior,

Fetching lofty justice across the breach

Not to mention and to say the least,

and drawing no more than all your pearly-whorly thirty two teeth,

It helps e’ery other ponderer or even—any other bogged decrepit,

And, if anything , it’s worth is much more than measures of drumming 🥁 beats

And so, I sit!

A yield bringing settlers to a squatter’s lead,

Rightly camping under the catamount’s feet

Yes , it’s like turning the

yesteryear’s lasting leaf,

Creaking still under those heavy tilts

Yet, so clear cut across those inner labyrinths—

Like gulping, brute passivity, right underneath!

And so, I sit!

And gazing over those gilded glints,

And for th’se many golds, it promises to bring!

Bending into voids alone,

Quite adrift, I stage over those elusive gifts

Now, nose deep,

deep diving onto those fleets,

Unfolding life’s deposits,

and all along those harrowed conflicts, and also, amidst few more hallowing griefs,

I sit!

But, yet again , regrowing thoughts, regardless of any defeats

I rise again, signing the treaty with my tailbone’s creed

With no bailiffs calling to stand in steed,

With gravity I sink down to every cushions plead

And so, with no regrets, so I sit !

Willingly, to be titled: bun-in-a-stitch.

There’s a profound sense of pleasure as one concedes,

Don’t say by all means—if you please!

Yet, with a slightest tilt, it’s

like a weltered relief

Coz , it is about to tell you something which spells 🪄 much like this :

Love me or leave me ;

or still better—

like it thus, or lump it in a spree

‘Coz, I make monarchs here, whosoever slumps in from spine to knee

No meek concessions on this very seat

There’s no percentage chance of any defeat

Yeah, slump over this gilded throne,

Claim it and make it your own

every now and then— of course, with no prior paid permits

So upon its alto-meter,

With eternal ladders pinned to each,

It’s that chair leading up to those deeds,

Holding whispers of waiting, Much as much —as it is;

which one is more free all through this decree !

Now, if you’ll excuse me please, I need to lie down 🙏