Drowning

 

Life is merely a flow:

molten agonies;

floating passion;

streaming desires;

evaporating dreams;

undying aspirations.

 

We try to cross it,

Taking it to be

the aim and purpose of life,

But the moment we reach the bank,

panting like a dog,

we turn our head

and look at the aims and goals

on the other bank,

We feel we have lost

something very important over there.

 

So we swim back,

And over and over again,

We get conditioned to think that

crossing the river back and forth

is the aim of life,

the proof of success,

Little do we realize that

it was supposed to be a journey,

a flow with the stream.

 

Mostly we realize it too late,

We don’t have even that much patience

as it needs to stay joyfully afloat

in a gently flowing stream,

Fatigued with incessant crossings,

we panic and drown in the stream

just near the point

of our futile back and forth fording,

We miss the flow,

We miss all that life had to offer

on its journey ahead.