Sunday, April 19, 2009

Musings of A Muted Cog

Endless whirl of turning wheels.
To and fro
To and fro.
I run my shift
And motor on
Knowing not where motion takes.

Moving as the muted cog
Roll on I in silent daze
And script anew a thousand tales
As ‘why’ and ‘how’ and ‘why not’s pour
And drown me down in pelting rain.

Clobbered with clauses
I yearn for a stop;
Finding instead
Reams of the same.

Flattened in pain still do I dream,
To fly and soar and breathe anew
Into the bliss of sunlit blue.

Sharp the whistle blows
And blinds me in smoke.

Endless whirl of turning wheels.

(After “reams of the same”)
I marshal my words
And weave through my text
Dreams of a dawn
Unawakened yet.