we fool ourselves time and time again.
little tricks aiding us to perceive the world,
as (if not anything) marginally different
from the world of another.

like a blue rose waiting in a desert,
for a sultry performer to masquerade by
an unpretentious offer.

take what i know to be true,
i wish no ownership of it (in being it).

help me to look into your eyes once again,
let me feel as i did on a certain chancing.
i need to tell you the truth now.
i ventured into the promiscuity

of possibility.

i shouldn't have, i know i promised,
but what was i to do?
like the slaves of the orient-
young, touched and known,
lay prepared for the invading white,
i too could concede no such preponderance.

you need to know however, it failed.
i failed.
i felt nothing-
realisation hit like a brick,
he (you) carries the key.


22 August 2010
9:13:00 PM __________________________________________