Time is running out;
why waste time in analyzing snide remarks.
Let me not be a cynic, frowning.
I am content with sitting on the Ferris wheel of life
and enjoying the turbulent ride;
taking a leaf from skeletal kids, reeling under dearth
warming my cold heart with their gurgles of mirth.
My eyes hunt for that light,
though damaged, bruised and lopsided,
still a light, glowing valiantly in the night.
Why grieve for what I don’t have?
No, I am not rambling; I don’t believe in gambling.
Life is catching up with me with its shambling stride.
So let me think of this world as beautifully imperfect.
Things could be worse, and circumstances adverse.
Let me sing along with Leonard Cohen,
“There’s a crack in everything, which is how the light gets in.”
Rumi said, “The wound is the place where the light enters you.”
So, let me woo the chaotic imperfections and grin;
wounded, and bruised.
Let me squeeze fun out of nothing, and throw my frowns in the bin.