Thursday, July 3, 2008

On The Move

Strange Beings, we are,
Constantly shaped by moulds of situation,
Transforming the alien into home...
And homes that we have left behind,
Become alien?

We incessantly forge new homes,
Conquering inhibitions and rigidity,
Opening a door where there wasn't one,
Surprising ourselves with our fluidity.

And once a home is made,
Time cruelly commands us forth,
Turning a blind eye
To all the struggle that made
An alien place home;
All of it dissolves,
And crystallizes into experience;
And past homes in memories roam.

6 comments:

Angika said...

Hmmm. I had to put myself in your place to understand this, but that's my shortcoming not your poem's :) It's nice and interesting. Glad to see an update :)

little boxes said...

nicely written...
life teaches you weird things...it taught me to get what you mean in the poem...

Arkarup Banerjee said...

Very nice.
Found resonance with Tagore's thought:
"koto ojanare janiyele tumi koto ghore dile thai,dur ke korile nikoto bondhu por ke korile bhai...."

Ranga said...

Each of your poems ends in a thought-provoking manner. Much like leaving on a high.

sujaan said...

thanks :)

reema said...

nice.... though erudite..endearing neva da less..
reema