Poems for the Mind

The Last Drop

The plop was so weak,

It went unheard

The ground was so dry,

That the drop was,

Immediately soaked up

There was nothing,

Down here,

To raise into the skies

Nor was there anything,

Up there,

To fall back down

As the last drop,

Went unheard,




Chaos began to,

Take over

Dear Reader,

I don’t like disturbed endings, and simply refuse to write them out. But today, a sense of foreboding has settled around me.

These days, in an effort to make peace with my flaying health, I take myself on long morning walks. Usually, the code inside my head, during these sessions, is always green. I come up with beautiful ideas and delightful memories. Today, though, there was a code red, burning itself around my head.

It has something to do with the corona virus spreading its tentacles close to home. It has something to do with things coming undone within the family. It has something to do with the disturbances happening within my own body.

After all, all the three – a virus, a discord in the family, an organ failure – we cannot see any of this coming. Until the moment we bang into one another as we turn around the corner.

Just like how we cannot see a volcano getting dressed up to erupt, or an earthquake breaking out of her chains to reach for the surface, there are several other things that we cannot see – not because it is not possible to see them, but only because, locked in the comfort of today, we choose to turn a blind eye to all the things that remain unseen.

No wonder, it is a code red. It is always a code red.

As the last drop of water dries up, as the last drop of patience wears out, chaos will reign supreme…

…until the time we learn to make peace with the chaos, and get the shit organized.

Here’s to meandering the chaos when we meet it!

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