Tuesday, 6 October 2015

Ode to the Day

My alarm tune is very melodious
I changed it recently;
Replacing monotony with music
Making mornings musical.

I wanted to be a dancer.
While dancing, repetitions make sense;
There is no monotony;
In fact, boredom dies with each repetition.

But one day I wondered,
what is not dance?
Between the silencing of the alarm
and the announcements at the station,
there is dance.
The metamorphosis of places into spaces;
City’s changing silhouettes
compliment the inconsistent walks of men.

Waiting for the uneven evening to arrive;
There is beauty in its nifty gait.
Between the shutting of the files
and the whistling cookers,
there is dance.
The journey from spaces to places;
Gearing up for plain acts,
Plainness does not attract spectators –
So, forgetting movements is permitted here.

Time to steal some time from time.
Before the closing time,
the fatigued bodies must perform one last duty;
To let the pens dance on the plain stage,
To watch the strange formations,

Between the unburdening of thoughts
and the burdened bodies of mornings,
there is dance.

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