On uneven streets

All my days are night

And then my sleeping hours

Start a riot under my lashes

And I see the sameness of it all.

The limpid, nameless master of the world

Reigns all small things

While we are busy reducing God

To a mighty atom on a wire.

And as I walk the sleep into becoming,

I wrap myself into the wake

Of a strange body

That lives, split in half, across one ocean.

3 thoughts on “On uneven streets

  1. Lopa Banerjee

    Loved the metaphors of God, night, sleep and the body….all of them intertwined into a magical tapestry of words that enlighten, illuminate!

    Reply

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