Another Atlas
You're insane - Mommy said
Took me to a doctor
Does it hurt ?
Yes doctor, the unanswered q's, the ignorance, the inability to express
I'm inarticulate and
it hurts.
Where ?
Down where the soul is.
Then go consult a shoemaker. Scram !
A hypochondriac - they say, and all physicians refuse.
My friend, a psychiatrist
Shoot - he orders
I try to think
incoherently
and succeed in confusing the issues
some more.
i?
the product of a determinism, fatalism
born to do my duty ?
you got to be kidding doctor !
The personal pronoun 'i', so important.
But is it really so ?
I am !
How would it have mattered had i not been ?
How would it have mattered had i been born to destroy
if not create,
regenerate ?
All that is truth
evades me
What and Why - the fundamental q's. And Hows too !
Do we exist
merely to eat, drink, sleep
And reproduce ?
To grow like vegetables - potatoes and pumpkins
-like animals, cockroaches and earthworms ?
No realisation, doctor-friend, no awareness
of being, living, seeing, growing
feeling
Why so ?
Or aren't there any left - the feelings i mean !
What is wanting ?
A senseless chase, running after....
For what ? Why ?
Trying to hold the sky in my fist and get wounded ?
How doctor ?
Why ?
Why do we have to love, if we have to die ?
Why live, if we have to lie ?
Listen, he barks, you're off your rocker!
Hands grab, I'm bound
with no hopes of eternal freedom.
Another Atlas
destined to bear
all alone
the crushing load of my awareness..... |
