Sunday, June 21, 2015

It's still me...I hope...

And it rains
And it gladdens my senses
It reminds me of that young boy
Who sought it's full onslaught
Determined to brave it
Exploring it's violence
Discovering his true self
Romanticizing the futileness of those endeavours
And living his dreams


I look at me now.
The downpour but a distraction
From the avalanche of of experiences
That make everyday life
No time. No patience.
To breathe in the the wet soil
As it rises up to the the monoliths that touch the sky
And falls victim
To the impossibility of city life
And fails to reach
That grown up boy
Now a man



4 comments:

Rashmi Yadav said...

Loved it!

Nice to have you back. Keep writing.

Anonymous said...

Loss of innocence... Will always take you away from the elements... the simple pleasures of life... purity... ***wry smile***
I am not a fan of your writing btw. Just plain old habit brings me here. In reply. It's the less eloquent, but still same self obsessed, you.

blunt edges said...

Nice! "No time. No patience." Story of all our lives.
It's great to read you again, old friend.

Anonymous said...

As it rises up to the the monoliths that touch the sky
And falls victim
To the impossibility of city life
And fails to reach
That grown up boy
Now a
'big fat buffalo'
;)