Body, is our only weapon
In love, and sometimes in war.
A child looks out of a window,
Shopping for new a pastime,
To transcend boredom. A woman
Says give me a clarinet and I will blow.
Man hears and sees, something
And the challenge for us all is,
How we become sated with what we have,
The permanent job, a faithful wife,
A rare one storey house.
And still we need to feel love,
Romance waking desire up,
The voltage between ground state
And bliss, what we feel as rise and fall
The reality is, our bodies live for the “out of body”
To just feel the dyslexia of a little death,
The perfect hieroglyph, the code
Of our bodies, that is beyond us,
What we chase over and over,
The oldest language, it is said,,
Older than Sanskrit or Tamil.
Older than Homo sapiens,
The oldest musical instrument.
The oldest recorded song.
The truth is you always need,
To air out your home, from time to time,
To release the caged passerine birds,
So they, rediscover their songs.