A moment before
A moment after
Each with their own tenor
Their own flavour
Their own meaning
There is the overall
The changing times
The recollected meaning
Of a moment
Made up of moments
All part of another
Moment
Each with their own tenor
Their own flavour
Their own meaning
There is the overall
The changing times
The recollected meaning
Of a moment
Made up of moments
All part of another
Moment
As a mother purifies herself
In the waters of the holy Ganga
While her daughters prepare
To leap in, yet again
An hour or so
Every day
On the bench
By the shore
On the edge of the fog
I wonder why
But I think I know
That bridge has been enough trouble
For us
No
For me
Maybe just for me
Even before the fog
Exploring the infinity
Beyond my ken
What I love most about existence
Yet… perhaps no greater love for this moment
Whether it seem strange or familiar
Than mine
If I can be still
For just a moment longer
If I can be present
In all this shadow and blur
Will the world make more sense
Will anyone see
Me
Like waking up
In a strange bed
In a strange room
Trying to find
That one thing
That one point
Of recognition
A silhouette
Bicycle rickshaw
India
But I noticed
Anywhere I stood in India
I could see someone
Selling something
To someone else