The best of times

I wake up. O, why do I see
this suffering, this lie,
I go to sleep with the hope
of a different world, free of
wounded words,
treacherous thoughts,
arrogant actions,
but invariably I wake up to
the same world, I go back
to sleep again; with an
indomitable hope, I wake
up again, nothing happens,
nothing changes, I look at the
morning sun, the moon at
night, the disillusioned stars
like me, they give their lights
nevertheless, I sleep as I walk
through my lines, I rewrite my
poems, my bedtime, the best
of times.

© supratik 2023
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I sometimes suspect; that if we could see the world, and ourselves in it, fully and real, without any blinkers (our distractions and prejudices) for the first time – we’d go mad, or become a saint. And as I’m no saint, and have no wish to become insane – then I’m part of the problem.


Thanks supratik; and isn’t it just so, that the human condition is a play for the gods? Or, as the hymn goes “forgive our foolish ways”.

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