Wednesday, October 24, 2012

this strange fascination with possessions

Last month I shifted my house
My home since childhood
When I left, I left with it
Treasured memories,
A part of my heart. When
 I returned to the place,
I saw my house had been repainted
I could no longer see my home in
That house. That’s how this world
 Is and in it
Nothing is ours, not our house
Or our cherished ones.  We came with
Nothing and we’ll leave back nothing
in this earth. Even our body, our faces,
The pretty and ugly, the black
And white ones will all be left to
Rot. Yet strangely, we seem
Crazed by owning, tempted
For worthless possessions
And looking good.

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