Between Ordinary Lives

—

AtoZatPp

Break the glass ceiling, you say.

You were meant to be more

Than a keeper of things

Around the space trapped within walls.

You were designed to paint

Pictures on canvasses

Craving for the touch of eternity.

You were meant, you say,

To shower a trail of gold dust

Which will crystallize into

A name that will be yours.

I smile.

I walk among the lesser known, I say

And sprinkle showers of hope.

I touch the lives of ordinary travellers

As they touch mine.

I don’t own a glass ceiling –

The sky is mine, as it is yours.

Greatness lies also, in ordinary deeds

That touch a million lives.

Is that not enough?

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