Poem 17 : Friends and Philisophy

When I walk along the streets

And see people around me

So busy spending time,

So busy spending life.

I start thinking of the past

Moments spent and lived

Pity me, can’t stop them

Nor the wreathing chunks of liveliness.

Moments, were they,

Spent with those

Neither can I define

Nor can they.

We call them friends

The randomness they bring

Out of the ever so

Adamantly lame regularity.

The hardship, they say,

Is the part and parcel

Of life but they didn’t say.

Should we be alone facing it?

The nearer they get

The lesser we know their value.

And the farther they go

The greater we miss them.

But it is not us

Who are rolling the dice.

Let the ever so mighty do it

I am just happy playing it.

But I do pray,

Let the randomness return,

Let the vividness surmount in

My ever so lame regularity.

-          Shashank.K.D(18^th july,2011)