One who cavorts
To the beats of the percussion instrument
Does not hear
The screams of the animal

One who loses himself
In the rhythm of the Tabla
Will not read the memories of the leather

One who presents his love
With a peacock feather will not see
The blood stains where it was plucked

The one who accepts it and dances
Will not know
A bird, its feet and wing broken

One who wears hair from the elephant’s tail
To become fearless
Does not see
The life cowering under the sharp end
Of the pole used to control it,
Nor hear the rattle of chains

One who reads these lines will not read….