I haven't written any poetry in a long time. Today I felt inspired and here goes nothing;


Circular. A roundabout way to refer to what we can't define.
Squarish. Fixed and permanent, though many dislike it.
Triangular. Directional but temporary, no one knows if it is right.
Rectangular. Imbalanced and dysfunctional, why are we so?

In our journey to realise what we become,
We understand more about ourselves.
No one knows you like you.
Or Is that really true?

Do people really know who they are.
Or are they characters in a play.
Reciting their scripts like obedient puppets
Being told what to do by others.

I exhort you, my brothers and sisters.
Rebel against the domination.
Live your own life.
Understand who you are.

Else you shall regret,
That life was not lived as it was supposed to be.
And in the last throes.
You shall realise that a waste it was.

Some may say. What is the price we pay?
I prefer to say. What do we gain.
Nothing is permanent. The temporal nature of our existence is such.
Eternity is non-existent.

Go and Live.

- Vikraman 30/11/08.