• Life succumbs in an air of raucous cacophony of what-shouldn’ts
    Rattling against every part of a being.
    Every rib
    Every tendon
    Every wishbone that’s yearned
    To be something different;
    To have something immovable, solid.

    As from the sky, a birds eye view of-

    The What-if-I’m-wrongs dancing circles around What-if-I’m-rights.
    The Hopes converse Love that’s been brought up by Frights.
    Barren lands filling violent violet-blue skies,
    As the same fills the streets of the city.

    Under us, the man, life beckons the knowledge it’s hidden
    In the very foundation of its soil.
    The greedy look under the wrong rocks, the ones
    decorated with signs- the obvious.
    While those who truly want to find an answer to the obscurity of themselves-
    to the world-

    Sit and wait.