musings

Discovery

One fine day I decided to run away.

I swam across the river, went in to the plains,
on to the plateau and atop the mountains;
the highland of cloud fountains!

 

I stopped to see as to how far had I run,
and was astonished to find myself there
from where I had begun!

 

The entity was still accompanying me;
Black, opaque, shadowy.....

 

Why, it was the "I",

I say,
from which I had made a futile attempt
to run away.

 

Such instances reiterate. They seem to have become my fate.
And even as I resist, there seems to be none a getaway
from where the "I" would make an exit.

 

© Chandra S.

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1000 years

1000 years from now what will exist?
What will become of the place that I sit?
Where will the people go that we have known?
What will grow in the lands that we've sown?

Is it to be that the things that we've seen
Shall be gone in the final breath that we breathe?
Is it to be that the sounds that we hear
Should be lost in the space that is taken by years

What should become of the connections made
Will they burn like the sun and eventually fade?

Or will it be that we'll forever last
Will some one remember
Our forgotten past?

Dec

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tags:

"Demigod"

Folder: 
My Work

Insolent minds;
are welcome to the view.
Sounds and colors climbing
to their heart's delight.
Pull down the blinds
nobody's watchin,true?.
Marvelous assumption
this rendering of sight.
Information is a bane;
communication, grief.
Emaciated ecstasy
is languishing in children.
We just want to breathe again,
oxygen's a thief.
Is this our legacy
chained in sheltered prisons?
Soul starved refrains
require new incision;
dying while supplying
cures for old infection.
We cry for rain,
then alter the decision,
Mother Earth is dying
to see her own reflection.
Make no mistake;
I too, love release.
and I like to feed from my blank screen.
Known to placate,
anything for peace.
But I'd rather tend the musings in between.
Yet still they rise;
attending to the masses.
Paying; bowing lowly
to the idols they hold dear.
News dues come at demise
of the quivering classes.
Sheep approach death slowly,
grinning ear to ear.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I have a political stance. I abhor politics.
Eyes open, ears up....

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