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Dec 20, 2009

Poem # 3


Nimble hands cannot piece human minds together-

Soft hearts cannot witness this race, naked,
Tedious minds cannot log the twists of such a labyrinth
Too many turns and obstacles – where is it headed?
Each time we believe we have figured ourselves out
Time proves that we’ve understood nothing at all
Nothing but the tiniest fleck of dust in a sheep’s coat
The minutest letter in the pages of the Bible that fall.
We grasp the answer - and it slips away,
Slithering from our hands as if fish afresh,
All doors are locked, the keys are lost -
Our hands are blistered from hammering on this mental mesh.
But peeking, we escape into the rear gardens of this frame,
The human body has many back doors indeed.
Unlocking the first, our sight turns vermillion red-
We have stumbled upon the heart in our time of need.

So fragile, so frail yet its shell is so tough-
Our mind works differently once inside
My efforts have not been wasted; I know your heart
Even if I may not have figured out your mind.


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