Ordinary Person

Walking without reflection is

good for balance, methinks.

Cleaving away the ruminative

aspect of a stroll like a

butcher slicing ham is conducive

to auspicious days and nights

when the crescent’s whispery

cadence quietens impulse

and ushers in tranquility.

Why should I assiduously scan

the pages of my life, trying in

vain to strike off a phrase

or obsess over some footnote

when I can commune with

the pink, arching bougainvillea

or the drooping wisteria?

When I can fling a handful of

caked earth and find my

inner child again?

I don’t need a startling discovery

or anagnorisis. What I need is a

retreat to ignorance,

introspection be damned

and analysing everything like

an antivirus software going

through file after file only

brings sorrow and guilt.

A walk is a walk

and one can only hear

nature’s mellifluous voice

after some benevolent force

raptures rancorous thoughts

and perspicacity, leaving

behind a sense of calm

non-being.

Photo by Alex Padurariu on Unsplash

You can also read Zilch, another poem of mine that is somewhat antithetical to this one.