Untitled Silence


I’m nobody to say anything about anything.
I reserve my right to be silent,
at least till everyone disappears;
Till I could avail the luxury to be on my own,
Once again:
Once again, of all those times,
Very rare times, too rare indeed!
This time around, my desire to know me,
To know you through the knowing of me,
Is not just a want, it’s a desperate need.

Who am I to say of anything at all?…
Anything that relates to your stranger’s side,
I won’t be made of what I defy,
I shall try, though, to swallow my pride!

I hurt my hand today, once more,
Once more, forgot the preceding story;
Only when I felt the soreness of the sore,
Did I snap out of a presumed glory!

Who am I to be, and to bask in that Being!
Who am I to look, when so tired of seeing!
Who am I to hear of what ceases to exist!
Who am I to long; on the longing, to persist.
When I seek to endure, in an effort to resist:
Through my selected resistance, I choose
A freedom to exercise; to exercise a Will 
Whose right is denied, every moment
by a corrupted human illusion:
Death in motion, and Life all still.


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