Thursday, July 08, 2010

Up there and In transit

I see someone up there laughing at a bewildered-at-myself me and going -'Must have been careful about what you wished for'.
I look on dazed and fazed like a lost puppy.

Almost enough to justify self-pity.
Ever in search of, ever striving and never quite reaching.
Pathetic low lives we are - ever stuck in the transit terminal.
If you cannot worship the ideal, how can you love the process?
How can you feel the pain of that struggle bob in your veins?

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