Laugh.
I wear no masks,
I can feel the breath.
I float, I exist.
Yet surreal is this reality.
Is this real?
Threads of attachment,
The longing dreams,
Strange propostions,
Paths completely different.
I search for colours,
That can be used to paint
The masks, but the taint
Seems to stay, in vain.
I have no words,
I have a sense of hope, alone.
I know better worlds and live
In them, yet here it turns stiff.
I can hear you far away,
But you don't seem to have a face.
Is this is a stance,
Which I have to bare for long?
Neither the capricious,
Nor the abject certainty,
Seem to tell me,
What is that, I need to see.
I listen within.
I search, search,
Look and finally
In despair hope.
But I know,
This is a passing,
And when the sun
Speaks, clarity
Will be seen,
And strife, driven away.
But now an angst,
Does seem to seize.
I carry it along,
In belief, that bitter
Is a taste as well.
But where, all it takes
Is a left and another left,
To undo a right,
Knowledge does cause fright.
But this seeming negativity,
Is as marginal, as a node,
But real or not, it does exist,
As if existence is a guarantee.
I hope everything evaporates,
And I alone condense,
Sans the condescending plight.
And when I am so formed,
I will fall upon and rise,
Like the tides, In knowledge,
That every up has a down.
And when the shore is flooded,
Nothing does matter, for myriad
Comrades, do try to appease
And there born is a belief.
But if this very thought,
Is on premises, then
In the lands of virtues and vices,
I seek one common wisdom.
I stand upon,
I see, I speak,
I exist, because I think.
The light shines the brightest
