Always Too Eager for the Future

The new man is born too old to tolerate the new world. The present conditions of life have not yet erased the traces of the past. We run too fast, but we still do not move enough. He looks but he does not contemplate, he sees but he does not think. He runs away from time, which is made of thought, and yet all he can feel is his own time, the present. ― Eugenio Montale

Possibilities of many minds

They peep forward in time

Slowly time ticks away

Present becomes Past

Future is Present today

Of all the habits I picked

You were worst and best

I do not present explaining

Why we did what we did

Of all things that I have sad

Every walk was a test

I can still taste presence

Of your perfect defenses

Some things ever escape

Perfectly modeled cages

What is it that I seek?

In these cracks in time

All’s lost and sand

Here I too stand

Eagerly

Mechanical Overdose

The machine has got to be accepted, but it is probably better to accept it rather as one accepts a drug - that is, grudgingly and suspiciously. Like a drug, the machine is useful, dangerous and habit-forming. The oftener one surrenders to it the tighter its grip becomes.
― George Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier

Life, so mechanical to me it seems

Pressing buttons and sliding screens

Eyes locked as seldom they stop

Moving parts so fewer we got

What to hide and what to voice?

Day after day nothing more

Addled by abundance in store

Void all around, what’s not to fill?

Nowhere to go with little skills

Man needs love is all that is

Machines knows no love

Peace is never on

On luminous screens

Heart full of wander

Shouldn't be stilled for long

Romance is lived

It isn't reflected on

Rusting lives away

Stop, hold on

Incomprehensible machine man is

Is mechanical life at all humane?

Swapping Places

“It's the questions we can't answer that teach us the most. They teach us how to think. If you give a man an answer, all he gains is a little fact. But give him a question and he'll look for his own answers.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

Me questions ?

Why I'm not like them ?

Why I'm not like you ?

If I was you 

So easily amused 

What's stopping me to?

Only if fate 

Ohh if it was

so easy to catch 

switched or rematched

I'd swap places 

and faces with you. 

But, soon I realize

It's all in my head 

Just a fantasy 

a mere pretend. 

“There are only two worlds - your world, which is the real world, and other worlds, the fantasy. Worlds like this are worlds of the human imagination: their reality, or lack of reality, is not important. What is important is that they are there. these worlds provide an alternative. Provide an escape. Provide a threat. Provide a dream, and power; provide refuge, and pain. They give your world meaning. They do not exist; and thus they are all that matters. ”
― Neil Gaiman, The Books of Magic 

  

Irreplaceable

My dear fellow, it isn't easy to be anything nowadays. There's such a lot of beastly competition about.
― Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

I thought me special
Irreplaceable, unique and kind
Never knew
So many Me were in the line
Just waiting
For me to let go.

Watching over styles and patterns
Multitudes so hard to swallow
Walking same roads and lanes
Paths were made followed
So many hungry souls
Waiting to cross

Everyone is something

In the air
Just waiting to hit the line

Dance of the Infinite Stars

She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars.

~Neil Gaiman, Stardust

I stare at people when they go around

Trying to find a poem in their stride

A reason in their walks

Season on their face

What races those feet pace

As they move I am moved

Their movement excites

What makes them move?

My eyes turn blind

I see nothing at all though I stare

Lives so different from mine

Still I stare from far

This dance of life

Can I decipher it from afar?

Borderlines- A World Of Unfree

The worst thing is not that the world is unfree, but that people have unlearned their liberty.

In the world of highways, a beautiful landscape means: an island of beauty connected by a long line with other islands of beauty. How to live in a world with which you disagree? How to live with people when you neither share their suffering nor their joys? When you know that you don’t belong among them? Our century refuses to acknowledge anyone’s right to disagree with the world. All that remains of such a place is the memory, the ideal of a cloister, the dream of a cloister.

The majority of people lead their existence within a small idyllic circle bounded by their family, their home, and their work... They live in a secure realm somewhere between good and evil. They are sincerely horrified by the sight of a killer. And yet all you have to do is remove them from this peaceful circle and they, too, turn into murderers, without quite knowing how it happened.

~Milan Kundera

Borderlines
Where do I draw the lines?
Of freedom and its confines
Is it blurred?
Bedimmed as it seems to me
Or is it zagged?
As Life is supposed to be?

Many came and chalk talked about you
You, I studied and watched endlessly
Brute Borderlines
Why you are still a mystery to me?
Instilling a streak of fear
Yet sometimes
You do scent like security

Sweet Surety
Why you are so full of ennui?
Like a lone filament in a bubble
Glows of bond and immunity
Are you a noble thing?
Stringed to me as my sanctuary
Or it’s just me with my fickle fancy?

Borderlines, shed this obscurity
Before Me
Undrape the Babe of Reality

Truth That I Tell

Truth is singular. Its 'versions' are mistruths.
― David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

There's one truth that I tell

There's another which I don't

In the thick lies a detail

Unfolded, told only to special one

Something's still untold

Layers after layers

My Truth really died

But, I still see one

One that survived.