The Brave Pedestrian

It is half filled And it remains only half filled No matter what I achieve Or acquire. It is half empty And it remains only half empty No matter what I fail at doing Or what I lose. (Ah! But this cup feels fuller when I give And when I’m given. And it feels a little more empty When I withhold Or when someone withholds from me!) I keep running everyday Like a rat on a treadmill Hoping that somehow I shall fill my cup to the brim And dance in ecstasy with the gods. I live in the fear that Some act or failure to act Will spill my cup And leave me dying of thirst – A meaningless creature in the desert of existence. Truth is, The cup of this mind that I inhabit Can never be fuller than it is now Nor can it ever be drained. I know this. I’ve known all along... But what to do? The itch of desire The ache of anxiety Demands a response, demands action, Not thoughtfulness, Not wisdom.

I write this tinged with sadness. I feel sorry for us... For the tragic comedy that is the essential human condition. In the midst of a carnival of plenty, Some of us are dying of thirst. In the midst of a deluge of love, Some of us feel left out and lonely. There is no dearth of emotional give-and-take in the crowd of relations that we stand amidst... Father, mother, brother, sister, son daughter, spouse, lover... And yet we suffer bouts of feeling heartsick and unloved. Yes, I feel sorry for all of us. Poor forked animal, whose overdeveloped mind afflicts him, Ambushes him with emotions that have little to do with the present. Poor forked animal, who carries a baggage of emotions from the past, And borrows some more from an imagined future. Poor forked animal, who cannot be simply happy With things as they are. We live our lives with the sour aftertaste of Yesterdays and yesteryears. We live with the bittersweet foretaste Of what the morrow will bring. We live in a world that has...

I write this tinged with sadness. I feel sorry for us… For the tragic comedy that is the essential human condition. In the midst of a carnival of plenty, Some of us are dying of thirst. In the midst of a deluge of love, Some of us feel left out and lonely. There is no dearth of emotional give-and-take in the crowd of relations that we stand amidst… Father, mother, brother, sister, son daughter, spouse, lover… And yet we suffer bouts of feeling heartsick and unloved. Yes, I feel sorry for all of us. Poor forked animal, whose overdeveloped mind afflicts him, Ambushes him with emotions that have little to do with the present. Poor forked animal, who carries a baggage of emotions from the past, And borrows some more from an imagined future. Poor forked animal, who cannot be simply happy With things as they are. We live our lives with the sour aftertaste of Yesterdays and yesteryears. We live with the bittersweet foretaste Of what the morrow will bring. We live in a world that has plenty,...

Love, they say, conquers all… Does it? Does it, my friend? Does it? Then let love find a way! The world stares me in the eye and laughs, and mocks. Love is a wisp of grass, it says. It dries in the sun, It rots in the rain, It withstands nothing, It withers in pain. What love do you speak of? The world asks with a laugh. My brave arguments die in my throat. I lay down my arms.

Forgive me, Lord, this broken drum speaks In a unworthy voice — now true, now untrue. Sift truth from the lies if truth there is, Else spill me in the dust. My quest is the quest of a one-eyed man Whose vision oft deceives him; He depends on his poor eye not because he trusts it, But because people who offered to lead and show him the way Did not earn his trust. Dimly-remembered voices from a past So distant that it is doubtful Whether it existed at all Echo in my skull Half-voices, half-noises… Disturbances in a cave of unknown depth. With the tips of my mind I seek out the cracks Between wakefulness and sleep Where I hear these voices loudest, And glimpse faces that I recognize – Faces not of those living Nor of the dead I know. Fleetingly with forceful gestures they speak. Seeking to grasp their words, I awaken Only to find my awakening empty Bereft of the meaning of what I saw and heard. Something I knew and trusted was lost And so I grope a...