Dark and flowing it waits patiently
Like a commando it obeys
Without giving thoughts a second thought
Goes out and executes well
Not every time are there executions
Nor verdicts that tear through hopes
But doodles that smile
Rhymes that glance shyly
Live and breathe because it flows.
It is a funny feeling to hover over
A charged and angered frown
Or complete a hesitant and incomplete smile
Or gently careen over a faded form
But every time it discovers long lost friends
Friendly strangers with strange complexions too
But this is life, isn’t it?
Remember, it flows into shapes that are read
Without reading the shape of their flow
Histories have been morphed, muted, or linked
Time has battled again and again
Life meanders lazily through its frozen contours
And even when it no longer flows
It lives.
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Inking a strange reality – a poem
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Arvind Passey
20 April 2016
