nothing and no one
saves us
from this life
death situation
now you must
realize the purpose of
poetry
it does not save us
from death or
hunger or
pain
though it can lessen
this misery
like a pillow in our
heads when
we really badly need
to sleep
& rest
poetry never promised you
redemption
they are just words to say the least
somehow
it changes the way we look at life
and death
i love the metamorphosis
metaphor
of that caterpillar, cocoon
butterfly thing
this is not a case of a sinking ship
where rats are
raging furiously out of the mess
to save themselves
this is not a house burning
where our only dream is an exit
or a prison cell where we always
speak of liberation
a cave, a tunnel, a pit
where light becomes a dream
this is but a realistic approach
to an existential nihilism
we are but spectators of this show
and participants as well
we all live and leave and then
be all silent because we have then
decoded the mysteries of our
innate truths
again i am into this Rubicon of words
trying to untangle and in the very process
caught so well in my own
imaginary cave, a prison, a darkness
which i very well know is just temporary.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem