Vague

Vague!

The world is vague.

Made of plastic or glass;

Pieces pierce.

We’re perpetually in the blue

Hanging like clouds or waves

Torn apart through moments

Beyond our ken

Alas!

The body is pulling us down.

Whose body? Mine!

I somehow realise that

This owner I wants to move up.

Yet it settles down with

The corpse.

The world, the real world

Which is not like the waves,

Neither it is like the clouds…

It struggles in the gap

The I and the frame

The light and the carcass

The permanent and the transient

Poles apart, poles apart.

Things are falling apart

The hollow inside

Finds its place

In every Self

Doesn’t know how to heal;

To the intelligent heart, the simple ways

Never ever appeal

The worlds therefore

Damned on the stage

With stories and folklore

They vagabond in vagueness.