It is undoubtedly so, that time is of essence,
Purportedly I know,
Anything else makes me tense,
I'm sold on my convictions even if the world bellows,
That my Yezdi don't make sense.
Not to plastic 100 cc voyagers,
Not to the fibre cruiser punk,
Not to it archetypal 4-stroke half-breeds,
Ornate squishy glintsome variants, (Yuk!)
No no no!! My Yezdi's got some spunk.
Its not called the Roadking for nothing,
I've seen lily blush, cutie pink and demon teen,
Delinquent voyeur and the ilk, mutation supreme,
The Roadking is something else,
More spoken of and less seen.
Confidence never felt so inspiring,
Shape out of fashion, past with time,
No straight lines, curve to fancy round,
To no super-technology or rocket science bound,
The joy of a Yezdi, sweet and profound.
I'm not casteist, but detest prudence and trash,
I'm no perfectionist, innate flaws i shall pass,
no idealist, some come some go, thats the rule,
I'm not a chest-thumping-fundamentalist wannabe,
I schooled,graduated and then went to Yezdi school.
I learnt that it's all right to die sometimes,
Gathered that it's normal to feel sublime,
Figured that there are choices in life that one must make,
Reasoned that where there's a Yezdi Roadking,
That's my will. That's the way.
May the tribe grow.
May the roads fear.
May the people feel the power in second person.
May the stars shine of us and show us the way.
There's not more to be said.
Only travelled towards... and reached...And start all over again...
Amen.
