Nearly on the cusp
of what was embarked
Time to seek returns
on all tasks earmarked
Seeds sown long ago
its time to check yield
If efforts of bygone
what in future wield
Done all as expected
way beyond known edge
Fate hangs precariously
balanced on a tiny ledge
Laurels or notoriety
flip sides of subsistence
Win if you may or lose
still part of existence
Gambit is set in place
to a point of no return
Unsure if proves pleasing
or curve for one to learn
Whatever be final outcome
will take with bit of salt
Not blame any of nuances
but take on as my own fault
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A confessional type but word so chosen is fantastic well synthesised thank you Lord bless you