They say they know it all..
they say they have learnt
it all..
walking around with that
pride
their empty eyes
showed nothing but neglect.
Their eyes at the back,
slowly moving across that narrow
path,
they reached nowhere, but
into this web
the web of people and
past..
I learnt it too,
to follow them
but it is difficult,
difficult to listen to that
untamed rhythm.
They do not see all these
lunacy?
Did the books teach them
this? I asked
they did not answer
but just glared, some
screamed,
some just turned deaf.
I see the fresh seed
growing,
out of the same old sack
into the same blankness,
they arose
marching one behind the
other.
I want to cut this all
this binding rope
and take a right..
a right of my will.
I wish I could shake them
these saplings,
so that all the dews of the
past would fall
and what remains
is the plant
alone ready to grow
into this might
that can stand unscathed
and unaltered
simple and pure.
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