A dream;
Something you may laugh at,
Is what it is.
A plan;
You may say, a process;
So simple, yet so far
From the river,
Whereth all the sentiment come to drink.
I coexist.
But through a glass –
A filter of sorts.
No Mask, just a mirror
Distracting from what’s truly behind;
Carefully hidden in plain sight;
Not ungraspable.
But you are too busy, aren’t you?
Staring into yourselves.

Coming back, it’s simple;
Or is it now?
Waking up with no mountain atop my chest.
No negation, no lie.
Uninstitutionalised; Wild??
I don’t know.
But that’s what I am upto anyways.
The riches and repute? Depend,
On what they barter
What do I pay?
A blurry vision in gold for a clear sky at night.
Not my thing, not my agenda.
I end with you to prove my point,
My distracting manoeuvre.
Hindsight of the mirror, I hold
Theatricals on exhibit.

You think I see
A mask, a facade…
But you are bare!
Self-gloating a bit.

Even I need a moment in sun.