Aphids in Sikkim
Eyes, you shut yours, I shut mine, what do we do about the light?
Names, you change yours, I change mine, what do we do about those we whisper in our minds?
Thoughts, you shut yours, I shut mine, what do we do about the soul that spans our times?
Pens, you write elegant, I write crude, what do we do when they meet in the same root?
Clothes, you choose yours, I choose mine, but despite our tries they wish to tear off our lies.
Lies, you lie to your self, I lie to my self, what do we do when the liar in us does not wish to buy?
Speak, you don't, I don't, lets keep mum for times anone, what do we do, when our lips want to meet and kiss?
Blush, you don't, I don't, what do we do when the spring in me wants to bloom in you, and the womb in you wants the spring in me?
Do we stand insipid like Aphids in Sikkim?
Or we break free, from bonds of self imposed misery,
It's not what do we do,
It's what we do.
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