There was a time
When I could be awake at night and dream,
Wondrous thoughts of love and peace
Reality so far did seem
There was an age
When I could learn from all that I could see,
Experience was my teacher
Teaching all that I should be.
There was a period
When my thoughts were all my own,
In visions of my destiny
I stood alone.
Then came the years
When dreams and thoughts were taught to me,
Love and peace forsaken
’Reality’ was learned and ‘I’ was ‘We’.
These are the days
When I am a slave to convention, no longer free,
My identity lost, man my teacher
And ‘they’ decide what I can be.
Now is the age
When visions are material, destiny askew,
No spirit left alone
Tradition old replaces imagination new.
Now all my life
Their thoughts can come, but mine must leave,
I do not feel and learn, but mug and spout
I do not think and dream,
I just churn out.
This poem was written by me in a 1/2 hour competition during Crossroads and published in Yamuna.
However, as much as I like to crib about it being edited and published without my knowledge, I didn't mind it all that much.
