I saw a group of boys
with their faces unshielded by sunscreen,
looking into the evening sun.

They wheeled about on their bicycles,
having thrown the clock into yesterday.
They rode on the seat of leisure,
No leaders, no laggards,
Just the thrill of the wind
rushing through their sweat soaked hair.

They moved past me,
And as they disappeared around the corner,
I wondered,
Would this bunch tread a new path today?
Would they add an entry to their growing map?

Or perhaps,
it was not they who would discover new paths
As much as a new path
would discover their freshness, their nonchalance,
And hope for a drop of it
To be left behind.

As the last of them went out of sight,
I broke myself out of my reverie,
got back on the saddle
and pedalled away,
looking for a path that would find a new me today.




To those who believe faith is above reason.

The face has been patched now
The stitches don’t show,
It’s easy to blend in
When the hemlines have been ripped away.

I wear your beliefs,
Learn to inhale,
To the rhythm of your chaos.
I speak to the ground
And claim to have found
The path to redemption.

So what do we do next?
Build a wall around our home
And pretend to not have heard
The rumble of the volcano outside
As reason gets slaughtered and roasted?