A gush of afternoon silence walls the children
               of thought in
              their distracted restlessness...
A gaze somewhere, feeling the midair feel
suddenly self conscious, and curling up -
a frightened darling clothing a naked bath with
the hazy waterfalls..
a staring pair of blindly seeing eyes -
            my own eyes, my very own eyes
And something crumbles, a soft wistful sound 
something breaks down there -
the black dots gather their collectible sundries..
shards of experiences, words...
the around.. the distance...
A twitch - a vertical tubular pain ...
burrowing its way inside-
or is it numbness trying to get out ?
And slowly, the figures learn to move, to move
and fall away - school kids at the evening hour,
a dark lonely building - and the dots, the black dots
keep marking on, and keep on staring at what
has just become but austere loneliness.
 

~Shombuddho~

 

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