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Showing posts from January, 2014

Rhythm of Sin

I, the little thoughts in me. I , those DNAs playing around each cell. I, they call me a man. I, they used to call me a boy, a kid, a baby, a hope, nothing. I was eaten by my father a long back. Who knows from where the first compound of carbon in me had come. Perhaps, from a lettuce, or a mammal that my father ate. Or perhaps from the air he breathed from some remote Indian village, accidentally squeezed through his esophagus instead of bronchus. I am air, I am water, I am carbons. Now, they call me a man, a sinful man.
By will and hope, I squeezed through the egg of my mother, escaping the heat of lust. I , thought it was an escape, but O' nature, am I me? I am me now, a man, and food for the weeds and worms, soon.
Tears have no meanings, it is the sorrow in my tears that has meanings. It is the curiosity of hope, that shines out of each drop of tear. A hope to find myself, they call me a man. Oh, my feeble fingers, how slimy you are. Would break apart with a single blow, yet you …