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 seeds growing,
out of the same old sacks
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.
spottypotterson 