On Passing Time And Being Neurotic Poem by arundhati sinha

I listen to elders
telling me to stare
at the wall closing in on me.
My mind on a horse's hooves
runs swiftly on the moist blades
of my imagination

The love, warmth and teary eyes
of yesteryears
The anxiety and the thrill
of the unknown
of the yet-to-be
exhilerates and ignites the horse's hooves.
Yet, caught between two worlds, two minds,
two destinies;
It runs in circles.

The voice of the elders
Float in again
'Dwell not in the yet to be or the gone by.
Let go.', they say
My mind revolts,
'how to let go of
that which was never mine.
How to let go?
If in being but a puppet
I long to live
Where i am not
and will never be.