By Krishnendu Mitra
On a moving train, trying to grasp the still frame,
Static thoughts laid over the passing views,
Some of trees, some of passerby's and waving children
Them rooted in the same place, am I rooted in the warm chair?
or moving on, reflecting on collective freedom;
the ego is holding on.
between the hard iron rods.
let the light come in and stamp an accordion on the floor,
the fan coming to a grinding halt
cut the gordian knot and let loose
let the heart follow the dark out of the hollow room
between the pauses of the breath
the walls echo the grim still
Thoughts continue to simulate life
Life continues to live
to assume roles of hollow accomplishments
Life continues to live
to measure actions on a scale of morality
Life continues to live
an assortment of experiences
manifesting themselves to be consumed
by existence
within the grave of perpetual nowness
Thoughts halt.
