The sweet enriching darkness welcomes
the workers into the wet and warm vault.
The distance had been short-a mean fit for a debut swimmer.
If it happened in the days of yore-in our land
The drums couldn’t beat
The nights would be silent for none would celebrate
The elders’ faces-on the eerily dancing fire light –would spell disappointment
The women and children would be mum too
Now we are grown ups
And the common and noble truths have been banished into the distant past.
The chameleon rounds and rounds on former shades
And ‘we are gorgeous with our disposition’ – we are happy with the setting
In the vast forest of human existence
The undergrowth-the vaultic outcasts thrive
Rot in society flourish in parches of inhabitable installations
Juxtaposition boils to a negative action
Then, revenge amounts inevitably from forms of wasted muscles, the pus of human negligence.
20th February, 2007