This man
The cause of all my angst
The fount of new found poetry
Resurrection against grief
This man
So limited in his constructs
Fights the big question down
By immersion in the mundane
He hears not the music
Of speculation
But the music of
Capitulation
And wistful resignation
His heart so dead
To pleas unspoken
His head so alive
With rights reserved
For him
His unjust dues
Sullenly claimed.
And I love
Him.
For it's Brave
To be ordinary.
It's beautiful
To accept
Reality.
And still love
Like there's no
Tomorrow.
Because
By the way
There isn't.
And
I hate him
For stealing
My Hope.
For though all ways
Must lead to
Rome
The path matters
As much as
The goal.
(c) Amrita Valan 2017
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