But utterly strange
To me
Yet… perhaps no greater love for this moment
Whether it seem strange or familiar
Than mine
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
Faces and life stories
Pedaled by
Captured in moments
Of pixels
Then a camera
Pointed back at me
Capturing a moment
Of a moment being captured
Our cameras lowered
A smile, a laugh, and a wave
We four strangers
In a moment of intimacy shared
And in this lies
A beauty plain
Where truth is told
In high relief
No shadow cast
No grey to mask
On one side white
The other black
India
They wait
Each a fleeting moment
Seen in the context
Of another realm
And none too clearly
What they are
Where they are
Who they are
Preconceptions projected
Upon an object
Obscuring the features
Of the object
Bed roll and cardboard mattress
Stashed in the tree for later
When night rounds the corner
Some small time for sleep
Otherwise
Pedalling
Gods and philosophy
Politics and economy
Then fall
To our basest instincts
Defending them
Proselytising them
Exploiting them