Saturday, April 21, 2012

They know best

You see sparkles
But what you see
Are reflections of light
Reverberating from panes
Of high speed trains
Having passed my doorstep
I had thought out
As entrance without keys
Swallowed all moments
Of in between silence
They stole all
My migrating birds
And unlearnt
Their sense of direction
When the world stopped turning
I saw them
Those birds without sense
They need tracks now
I saw them
On seats and in shoes
Without melody
They watch the world through windows
And I wonder
Who is the conductor
Does he draw the maps
He never goes for
Secret little archways
All he sees are tracks
Speeding up the train
What is the speed for
The world is small and round
The only route I know
Follows cycles and seasons
Of heartbeat and rest
Of fire and rain
I cultivate the soil
And throw out the seeds
Let them grow wildly
Without any fence
They know best
What makes a spray worth the harvest
They know best
What makes a field worth the rain