The Shining Shoe. Almost imperceptible, those creases on the polished leather. Safely ensconced, within the black of that shine, the feet. Ready to trample; some leaves, a few ants and much more who dare, live to fall under that unforgiving sole. The Shoe. Organized, Prepared, Dedicated.
Miles away from it, the Head. The sanctuary, of unorganized, insulated existence. The one who knows himself. And the one who knows how to cover the turbulence inside. Mellow, mushy and pulp; the skull his very loyal cousin. Protecting it, from accidents, both good and bad.
One often wonders about the constitution of a man. Is it in his walk or his thought ? Is it in his speech or his silence ? What is it that defines one human, one man ? Is it your swagger, that collection of amazingly organized flesh moving on a road or is it that invisible, very dangerous dagger ..that you hold aside, within you, ready to pounce out on an intruder any moment your constitution, your idea of yourself is challenged ?
What do you think of yourself ? What do you find when you want to find yourself, when you close your eyes and stretch out a hand, in vain? What is your existence ?
Are you a negation ? Of what you were born as ?
Are you a collection ? Of what all poison you have gulped in till now ? All running through your blood and mind now and filling you up with pride.
Are you a resurrection ? Of your past ? Living it up all again ? In hope of that outstretched, outlived glory ?
Your eyes ? What do they tell you?
Can you see your breath ? Have you followed that invisible air going in and coming out of you ? The very thing which sustains you ? The very thing that IS you ? No ?
What were you thinking ?
Are you a reference ? To an idea ? A supposition ? An altruism which you can never be ?
What do say when your lips are not moving ? What do you think when you are not thinking for someone else?
Who owns you ?
Does he trouble you ? That owner. Does he set standards for you ? Where does he brings them standards from ? Does he live inside you ? Do you even charge a rent ? You just let him in for free ? And he holds you for ransom ? And you say you are happy.
That black sky when you close your eyes just before sleep, when all world is yours, those few moments. What do you see? Loved ones ? You cared for them ? Why ? Can you accept that you were wrong ? Can you accept that you were weak ?
A Man.A Human.
Everyone has been been great some time. And Everyone lives to see his greatness flicker. In that wind of life. That flame. It will lessen its light just so much as to make you forget yourself. The weight of the world will suddenly come down. The shine from the shoes will linger and then slowly turn bland. That invisible air, that breath will suddenly feel heavy. You will watch its path, incessantly. That skull will yield, to waves so intense, that your strong thoughts will mellow down to mere servants.
And you will only have that weak flame burning. And in that empty castle of your constitution, with not a thought around, and just enough light, with all your encumbrances, liens and accounterments gone, you will see yourself.
Its good to be weak once in a while. It good to meet yourself once in a while.
Miles away from it, the Head. The sanctuary, of unorganized, insulated existence. The one who knows himself. And the one who knows how to cover the turbulence inside. Mellow, mushy and pulp; the skull his very loyal cousin. Protecting it, from accidents, both good and bad.
One often wonders about the constitution of a man. Is it in his walk or his thought ? Is it in his speech or his silence ? What is it that defines one human, one man ? Is it your swagger, that collection of amazingly organized flesh moving on a road or is it that invisible, very dangerous dagger ..that you hold aside, within you, ready to pounce out on an intruder any moment your constitution, your idea of yourself is challenged ?
What do you think of yourself ? What do you find when you want to find yourself, when you close your eyes and stretch out a hand, in vain? What is your existence ?
Are you a negation ? Of what you were born as ?
Are you a collection ? Of what all poison you have gulped in till now ? All running through your blood and mind now and filling you up with pride.
Are you a resurrection ? Of your past ? Living it up all again ? In hope of that outstretched, outlived glory ?
Your eyes ? What do they tell you?
Can you see your breath ? Have you followed that invisible air going in and coming out of you ? The very thing which sustains you ? The very thing that IS you ? No ?
What were you thinking ?
Are you a reference ? To an idea ? A supposition ? An altruism which you can never be ?
What do say when your lips are not moving ? What do you think when you are not thinking for someone else?
Who owns you ?
Does he trouble you ? That owner. Does he set standards for you ? Where does he brings them standards from ? Does he live inside you ? Do you even charge a rent ? You just let him in for free ? And he holds you for ransom ? And you say you are happy.
That black sky when you close your eyes just before sleep, when all world is yours, those few moments. What do you see? Loved ones ? You cared for them ? Why ? Can you accept that you were wrong ? Can you accept that you were weak ?
A Man.A Human.
Everyone has been been great some time. And Everyone lives to see his greatness flicker. In that wind of life. That flame. It will lessen its light just so much as to make you forget yourself. The weight of the world will suddenly come down. The shine from the shoes will linger and then slowly turn bland. That invisible air, that breath will suddenly feel heavy. You will watch its path, incessantly. That skull will yield, to waves so intense, that your strong thoughts will mellow down to mere servants.
And you will only have that weak flame burning. And in that empty castle of your constitution, with not a thought around, and just enough light, with all your encumbrances, liens and accounterments gone, you will see yourself.
Its good to be weak once in a while. It good to meet yourself once in a while.
