By Anuj Suri
Cigarettes burn, women bleed,
What are we trying to save?
Moving forward is only one of the many ways
to live. It is probably the hunger to find meaning in what is otherwise a
pretty empty existence. We fight to live only for the fear of death. This is
foolish, if you ask me.
I saw
him hoping against hope
An
old man of borrowed breaths
But
his life is only as real,
As of
the ones who filled his time,
All already
sentenced to death
We spend millions of pounds and half our
time on extravagant scientific projects trying to figure out just why we exist.
Philosophers and religious men have their own screwed up opinions. I don’t know
what the truth is and I don’t judge, but all I see around me are distractions.
I saw
his hand-built make-believe home
With
enough to keep us all occupied
So
we’re busy living, so we don’t analyze
The
reason for reason, so we don’t ask
At
least till the old man dies
Our existence is only temporary and we know
it. And so we start screwing with it. We create a world where the mere purpose
of our lives becomes moving forward. And we start building, for when moving
forward will longer be an option, we’ll need something to look back on.
And we get all messed up between living and
analyzing.
Sitting
atop his own world, he counts the rolling tears
And
what he’s built and what will remain,
And
what he’s taken to his grave
For
all he wants is to have mattered
He
lost his watch long ago, and he didn’t even notice
Cigarettes
burn, women bleed, what are we trying to save?
