And then, beaten by the rains,
He soaked and shivered in the leaking hut,
Wondering about the hapless life’s wanders
Effective, as the rolling stones, downhill
In his unbearably wakeful hours
He searches his lost soul among the debris,
And wades through the rubble for things that
once held impeccable usefulness,
and because none was forthcoming,
he invents value – life goes on as it must
perhaps there is wisdom in letting it be
Every morning, very early,
Amiano waits at the train station,
He waits for a train that never comes.
Amiano knows this but does not care,
Instead, he fidgets at his phone,
and posts angst-ridden posts online,
The train derailed along time ago,
Amiano knows this but does not care
He wants to, but dares not,
because that is how he has always reached his destination
He has more than a decade of experience
and still plays the same old songs at the train station,
Amiano knows it is a fool’s game
He does not care, because it is a game he has mastered
He loves to think that the world is unfair,
that it is against people with well-intentioned dreams,
So he waits for his train,
where non dares venture
