Time is running out;
why waste time in analyzing snide remarks.
Let me not be a cynic, frowning.
I am content with sitting on the Ferris wheel of life
and enjoying the turbulent ride;
taking a leaf from skeletal kids, reeling under dearth
warming my cold heart with their gurgles of mirth.
My eyes hunt for that light,
though damaged, bruised and lopsided,
still a light, glowing valiantly in the night.
Why grieve for what I don’t have?
No, I am not rambling; I don’t believe in gambling.
Life is catching up with me with its shambling stride.
So let me think of this world as beautifully imperfect.
Things could be worse, and circumstances adverse.
Let me sing along with Leonard Cohen,
“There’s a crack in everything, which is how the light gets in.”
Rumi said, “The wound is the place where the light enters you.”
So, let me woo the chaotic imperfections and grin;
wounded, and bruised.
Let me squeeze fun out of nothing, and throw my frowns in the bin.
SEPT/OCT 2017 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
An academician, essayist-novelist -poet, I have an insane passion to write about everything under the sun or the moon! Some of my books like Ballad of Bapu: [a poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi] and Where are the lilacs? [a collection of 111 peace poems] have been internationally acclaimed. Flights from my terrace is my ebook of 58 essays on Smashwords .