we were certain the titanic was the beast of the sea
we were confident we had all it took
to tame nature

we walked out in lab coats
we plotted demographics and glossy charts
we thought we were in control
steering all nature

tragically nature turns around
and men look into the distant grounds
and women stare into the horizon
helpless. hapless.

condolences to all the family of the victims of the disaster throughout asia.
we are all hanging by the moments.
at the mercy of He who turns the axle.

the corner 7 eleven
the words carelessly swept by
"those franchises all look like exact replicas,
one in every turn in america"
these memories, be it bad,
curls one up in the whirlwind
and it dawned on me,
what if. how now.

the same street.
almost the exact backdrop.
different characters. or rather, different roles.
i was holding his hand.
and you were holding hers.
ironic, how we brushed.
never tempted, never rushed into.
you holding mine. and me holding yours.
what it. how now.

maybe i dont see the world like anyone else. maybe i should belong in a different era. everyone's breathing too fast. looking not seeing. talking not speaking. hearing not listening. and many atimes, simply rushing. life is like a mathematical equation, with integers and factors liken to monetary gain, personal gain, luxury, road blocks, growth of wealth, growth of influence, building life and personal goals.

i stood and watched. as we build these insurmountable mountains. we teach ourselves, we grow and we overcome. i moved as little layla ran towards me, scrawny and scruffy, she whispered "sister, i lived another day, thanks to daddy" this christmas, i saw daddys carry huge brat dolls, robotsapiens. disparity. poor minority, aplenty, but we dismiss them as simply the minority.

i am proud of my fellow developed countries mates. we do good, murdering mankind and nature alike.

i was wrong. i assumed, we were going to the movies, on tight arse tuesday.
i am at home blogging. every next alphabet seems like mockery.
like a serpent's bite, it stings, but the vicious cycle continues.
the serpent and i. we play a venomous game.

i am too apt a planner. i get carried away, planning. planning my time, planning others time. many a times. too many times. maybe those plans arent simply plans, dreams and goals, what i hope to to turn concrete.

Socrates and the hemlock. which scene do you see, him drinking the wine, or him about to drink the wine whilst holding on to his philo sophia?which strikes a stronger imagery? it really isnt about the death, the last seconds, before one departs, what flashes by?

the reflections on the surface have rippled. been there done it, any longer and i would be overstaying.

lets do a countdown
before the towel gets thrown
and bags get packed

moving on.

it wouldnt be long.
thanks for fitting me in.