‘Love this, love that’,
‘Like this, like that’,
seems like a script given to act,
a few moments of rehearsal,
then the performance,
then time to slip back to one’s tiny shell,
As Cleopatra sits on a burnished throne on stage
to find herself back on floor back-stage,
Come back again,
the script is ready,
‘Love this, love that’,
Like this , like that,
love the dog on the street,
an ant entering the hole,
the cow feeding its calf,
not to forget the peepal tree
emitting oxygen day and night,
and yes, one’s parents too,
each lesson taught in books,
defining words,
constructing languages,
barriers along with,
when the heart feels not the same.
Where has the inherent humanity gone?
‘Love this, love that’
has to be taught each day
to prevent grasslands
turning into arid deserts.
An incisive piece illuminated by flashes of mordant wit.
love it …simple words expressing anguish
i agree with your words parting words!
An insightful, probing,multi-layered satire.