a blade of grass

a blade of grass

buried
underneath

the thick
sheet of snow

trying hard
trying
with all its might
calling upon
its will
and all that
it can
summon
from within

trying to reach
reach out
to the
sun
touch
the sky
shake
off the frost
and be the shade of green
it was destined
to be

a green
which is not

cold
withered
suffocated
deprived

a green
that
sprouts
out

parting
the brown
earthy
bosom

earning
its share
of sunlight
and its
right

to be

to exist

and there
on a park bench

i sit

looking
at this blade of grass

a man
with an autumn
inside
but
holding onto
the dream of a spring

secretly

when
neither he
nor any one else is looking

the mighty trees
the fading light
the stampede
of human feet
and the rush
of a day
calling it a day

this tiny blade
of grass

makes all these things
monolithic
fade away

and 
i
sit there
on a park bench

and look at it

a man
who is slowly
learning
to see
things
for what
they are not
and somehow
manages to draw
a parallel
with the gods

immortalized
glorified
in spite 

of all the living breathing
evidence
that is

you and i
and our lives

through the tenures
and the false
tenors
attributed to
them
made larger
with the clay of their non-existence

and
i
sit on a park bench
and
compare

a man
who is
made of
burnt out ashes
on the inside

but still
wishes

secretly

when
neither he
nor any one else is looking

for that blessed stroke
of wind
which would
reignite
all that has died

i compare
this 
blade of grass
with the powers that be

powers
who have
throughout
the fabled pages
of history

looked at the abyss
and have
with such blithe
unconcern

looked away
when the abyss
that are our
eyes
fast losing
light
stare back
but
i

pin my hope
on this blade of grass
and know

know
from a place
a place
so deep that it can't be a lie

that this blade of grass
would not look away
with all its fragility
and smallness
it would stare back

for a moment more
than it can bear

and in that moment
that blade of grass
would be
the god

a god

bigger
than any gods
we've known

i've known

and
i 

sit
on that park bench
a man
who finally
is
ready to recognize

secretly

when
neither he
nor any one else is looking

that he has found his god
while
on the outside

he sighs

at the triumph
of the faded away light
over the day

he gets up
a heavy head
a disturbed heart
hurting knees
stiff back

and 

walks away