I was not telling
anyone-

I was not
crying-

even me.

In a cubic chamber
of mirror walls,
ceiling and floor-

an entity
caught at the centre.

Disjointed two
In appearance but
a singleton in disguise:

my mind.

How simple,
this world is

Religions, sciences
philosophies, arts
and minds:

there is just one thing-
to grapple with-

apparently omnipresent---

---impermanency---

Seeing the little boy
playing with paper boats
in the rainwater,

the old man sank on his knees
with eyes overflowing
with tender tears.

Playing on your own,
how are you my little boy?

Ignoring the affection,

the boy continued
to play;

retreated the old man-

murmuring to himself,
how did that lovely little thingy

become this old raggie, me?

To reach its destination-
a train must remain on its tracks-
said the Master.

To search for truth
one needs to wander-
Junior responded.

Yes, Junior;

life is but a
wandering train track.