a blade of grass
buriedunderneath
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