probhato kale kali kali

lights
lit in electricity
luminous in oil
this darkness invented
to celebrate lights
this darkness mixed
in our eyes
and to look deeper inside
lights
every once in a while
we are happy
we have seen lights
oh how lovely is this life
that it isnt blinding
all the time
lights
seeing or not
believing or not
hearing psalms and prayers
or not
in the darkness hiding
in the dark hide
the leper soul
the stump, the gash
and there await
lights


this life is certainly the waiting game. but look at me. sententious already and ive just found one gray hair really. at the barber's. that too deep inside in my scalp. i shaved it close and then in the mirror saw this one rogue strand. worrisome, but expected. but this life is the waiting game. and i mean life in general here; not my life. otherwise why would i say it. as i was saying, there cannot be a greater virtue than patience. for wanting and receiving, for giving and taking no greater art than patience. because that is all we are supposed to do. wait it out, wait for it. even when we are powerful we are not omnipotent; we are rarely blessed in our desperation. in all these cases, stripped of the elements of strength, broken by that which we are out to make, we deceive, ourselves, friends, lovers, police, government and god, for those who flatter to deceive. the easier option faced with lies is the long wait, the long march, the longing, peaceful longing, patience.