THIS LADDER IS A GLADIATOR RADAR
        ~A grateful tribute to all my teachers’ abode, alive or above

 

 

Resilient sculptor day in and day out in all fairness
A revere done indeed in profession and in nobility
Stones may vary in shapes, colour or in stoutness,
But he is the one who decides their final credibility.

Imagine those stray pebbles lying lonely on the beach,
Consider those heaped at times without a thought,
Or rocks that yield stones in the quarry in a bunch
Many such stones with different history have brought.

Some may have siblings with them, some truly listless,
Some oft roaming, rolling, gathering no mass or goal,

Some aren’t, need intricate chiseling in all fairness,
A touch here, a touch there, gently‘ll make them stroll.
 

Some may glitter, some are stony black, lie dormant,
But some may conceal gold or diamonds within them,

Some need to crack oft the tough and the adamant,

Precious gems indeed they are, so well they redeem.

Ruminating how such influences had showered indeed,
Humble thoughts wafting through my mind these days,
Sculptor, who spots and shapes amongst the raw breed
Chiseling and polishing the best out in many ways

Guiding them to the top of the ladder, with no slips around,

Teacher, the sculptor carving the wand in magical spree,
Glorified, yet, the ladder remains stay put on the ground.
Glowing tributes to all those gladiator radars, I thank thee.