Breeze and Bongos

Breeze, a cold wind,

a shiver, a shake of the shoulders,

to disrupt the rude intrusion,

nature’s playful intricacies.

A thud on the borrowed Bongo,

a pause — a thud again,

the fingers, in frenzy,

lifted, and eased.

Will you tell me,

which is more important?

Is the thud too loud,

or the silence too inconvenient?

Is the thud too musical,

or the silence too poignant?

How can one tell,

in this unending wave,

what triumphs what?

Satiate our hunger for

the handicap of hierarchy?

Is there really a race,

a contest for excellency?

Or might one find, true purpose,

in a romantic proclivity?

Through a sudden gush of wind,

a marriage of silence and sound,

I wake up to the cold,

to the war, ever so old,

naive human mind’s affinity,

to desperate languid dichotomy,

to desolation of extremities;

the music, lost in eternity,

amidst the tug-of-war, this complexity.

If only one could see,

the inconsequential uncertainty,

this farce, this ambiguity.

And enjoyed the music,

and its simplicity.

~ Karthik Adithya Singaraju

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