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At the exact moment when
My shoulders were their weakest
The load I bear was doubled.

In the autumn of my mental skills
The maze I have to navigate
Was rearranged by evil fingers.

While I tried to make some sense of it
The slender options I created
Melted in the blazing heat.

When my tiny flame of hope
Grew almost bright enough to see
It was blown out by reality.

And there is only desert left
Where desperately planted seeds
Will have no chance to grow.

Like a candle left out in the sun
My spirit softens and then slumps
Into waxy pools of hopelessness.
ljm
Written a couple of weeks ago when I was really down.
On my way back home from an evening walk
I noticed ,as I always do
People
And what they do

A little boy with a bag of chips
Brought a smile on my lips
I did smile at him
He smiled back munching on his chips

Barely a few minutes apart
My son's friend riding pillion with his dad
Waved at him and he gestured back

A woman and her son holding hands
Taking an evening walk
The son my age or older than me , ageing mother some illness she had couldn't understand that
Felt blessed that we have people who do care.
Thanked the son in my heart .

Then,
A little girl and her mother , hands held
Walked past me
A feeling , I do relate
From ,
What  I had noticed
A few moments before, which made me a bit sad .

An old friend , a neighbour from yesteryears , she has twin sons .
I remember they were toddlers then .
One of them accompanied her
A handsome young man , Sure, he did not recognise me.

A little chat with my friend
And there , I reached home .
In my hometown
Behind the trunk of the mango tree
Farmer breaths the fresh air free
The farmer vigilantly guards the rice field
Waits for good yield
His wife collects dry roti for him
He munches holding the aluminum plate in the rim
The scare crow leans against the haystack
With its torn off hat and crack
The cool water flows from the well
Farmer rests upon the green grass to dwell
He hums a folk tune
Hard toil he is immuned
Though the lotus shares a bond
With the muddy and murky pond,

Yet lotus is holy and precious,
As our birth never defines us.

What we make out of ourselves is vital,
Only that aspect is important and crucial.
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