A skill of offense,
a tactic of defense
coming off the sturdy gloves,
borne by the brave oozing with grit.

History has been a witness
to many a thumping victories,
often perched in the dark
in a ringside seat.
When that thrust of a punch
shifted from iron fists,
to a crouching and dodging cheeks;
the aura in the ring lits up,
erupting into reverberating decibels.

The source of that jab
is a sum total of forces.
Arising from a razor sharp mind,
shifting to a fearless heart,
and finally coming off
a mighty strong body.

That jab was made for
felling of men in the boxing ring.
This jab now
is to make my body the gallant fighter.
The ring is within me.
The brawl is inside me.
More importantly,
the mutating opponent is within me.

Force of the jab
is still a sum total of energies.
Stemming from practical science,
moving to a race to make it,
and finally coming off a curve
of chaotic dispensation.
The urge to sprint last mile
is both medico’s and mine.

I can’t resist to reckon that
jab and job not only rhyme,
but resonate to some nuances
when they are both new.

The job might offer the luxury of
short probation and perpetual zone of comfort.
If I fail the trial, my boss fires me.
I may still land another job, and
hence another boss.

With the jab comes, probation as a norm.
No comfort zone to let the guard down.
If I fail the trial, life dings me.
I might land more jabs,
for life is only once.

Photo Source: www.abcnews.com