The world tells me that I am wrong,
Then you will knock on my door softly.
Knock,knock,knock!
The soft knock,
It rustles up a wave in me,
Of crests and troughs.
I oscillate to and fro,
Trying to fathom the flow.
I hit a dead end,
I rebound back,
Not to bend but to transcend,
I rise high,
For I vouchsafe for I what I believe in.
But they will still tell me,
That I am wrong,
You will again knock on my door,
Telling me to think afore.
I will pay heed to your silent knocks,
I will try to unravel the conundrum,
I will refine more,
But never give up on the core.