Questions

Look kindly at the torn disguise

A truer she is tentative below the surface.

A little bit of madness is also probable here.

She hasn’t eaten for days.

But I am aware,

What lies below there,

Is a monster I too am afraid of.

If she gets out.

If she stays.

Out of bravery or cowardice

Look , won’t you, kindly at her madness.

She is likely to be a beautiful one.

Perplexed slightly by whose creeds to follow.

A little insane perhaps,

Especially when she probes at celestial things.

Her perceptions founded on unsophisticated science.

The kind one would not pain

their faculties to analyse.

 

Writer’s private thoughts:

I mean, you are very busy peasants.

Hoarding gold,

Saving your marriages,

And satiating everyday busyness with football, ice-cream or a holiday excursion.

And truthfully,

She is a naïve little hobbit.

So I’ll excuse you.

But I hope you will finish the poem.

 

Whose world is this?

For what purpose am I designed?

To hoard gold?

To qualify for matrimony?

To satiate everyday busy-ness with folks?

Where are we going?

To whom are we going?

Are we ready?

Do we even care?

Are we fools?

To go on living,

With vague answers about our end.