Last night
I stood inside the rains.
People who dreamt, philosophised,
Elusively portraying them as
pictures of change.
They must know
the words of wisdom.
It must be the wind
or, perhaps, the rain.
Either of them slapped me
I remember not.
For, all I knew, I had no room
To protest.
Like a reward
They came
Like a premonition
They could only leave.
I felt caught up
In something I loved,
and hated
in an equal music.
The morning
Lit my half-opened windows.
The moment in time looks innate
So does the wilderness of life,
Looking at the golden-laced horizons of the skies,
To the everyday naturals of the gutters
Perhaps there are two sides.
The road unravels the lesser-known vistas
The "dead-end" sign still stoned.
The traveler with a set of wish lists awaits departure
A sailor smiles, offers a ride.
Perhaps there are two sides.
Seeking deliverance, a writer pens
"I write in desperation"
With a skinless dangling lamb, the butcher asserts
"I kill in desperation"
Perhaps there are two sides.
A bomb tries to teach,
A flower tries to teach,
One explodes, the other blooms,
Perhaps there are two sides.
There is pain in the womb,
But the embryo has grown up to leave
Sitting on a tomb,
A child cries
Perhaps there are two sides.
Some try to look for direction
Some try to direct
Some look for benediction,
Some for liberation.
Perhaps there are two sides.
I take a stroll
Someone asks me, "How are you"?
Later in the day,
I ask me, "How are you"?
Perhaps there are two sides.
