What I could be

If I could be more trusting
and still lucky enough to be alive,
If I could be less cynical,
and not be taken as foolishly naive;

If I could more instinctive,
yet not waver from the pursuit of perfection
If I could be less methodical,
And still swim across the freezing ocean;

If I could take more chances
And remain unconquered by disbelief
and if I could be less regretful,
equally unaffected by jubiliation and grief;

If I could treasure every living memory
And not cry over the things I lost;
If I can keep my tryst with the future
And still be loyal to my past,

If I can live every single day this new year
with all my life'e lessons learnt,
If I could enlighten like the wick of the lamp,
without myself getting burnt;

If I could value something in everyone
And still be clear of envy,
I could be everything I am not
And still be exactly me.