and get stuck on the web of life
designed so perfectly
even to absorb the impact of a
over a period
like in the detention camps -
where even a drop of water
continuously falling over the forehead
of a prisoner*
the web breaks down
and here i am -
jumping up & down
jumping to & fro
just to connect two points
with my silver dreams
so as to weave a new web of life..
and there is no king to get inspired
and to fight for the 'lost paradise'
the silver web, dancing in wonder,
along with the breeze
unmindful of yet another wayward beetle...
the permanence of repetition.
* one of the several torture methods used.