Friday, September 16, 2005

the grain in my shoe

like an epic story told,

just a click and it unfolds,

the organized destruction at one corner,

an organized construction at the other.

like yin and yang of reasoning,

to add some spice like seasoning,

had life been bland? i thought t'was good,

could it have bettered with the mood?

had i been asleep that long?

that life just passed by like a song,

a structured membrane of activity,

masking the reason of identity.

the grain that sits in my shoe,

surely its fear, or something askew,

perhaps when i stop anticipating pain,

only would i be human again.