It’s a warm world, it’s a cold world.
There’s compassion, there’s distance,
There’s memory, there’s resistance.
There’s illusion, there’s choice,
In our quiet seclusion, we rejoice.
There’s comfort, there’s pain,
No fancy retort, I hope it rains.
There’s the giver, then the taker,
on flows the river, and the maker.
However silence, is game for now,
I’ll write again, If I can somehow,
for the petrified speak no words,
the indemnified raise not their swords.
All is one, so I guess I’m done.
Glee of energy, forthright synergy,
Glee of feel, my Achilles heel.
© ANUPAM DWIVEDI – all rights reserved