“Activity makes my life colorful. To be quiescent is relaxing, but when it prolongs, I feel I am dead.” – By Poet Day after day passes With rarely a purpose to fulfill Thoughts after thoughts flit, With nothing to hold in memory. I am stuck on the lonely highway of life. No addendum! Up the long path of life, From joy to pain, And from pain to joy, I have been oscillating all these years. Now my mind is empty. No exhilarating emotions. No vexing thoughts No nagging concerns No convulsing tidal swaying Like a placid lake with no ripples Like a sponge with water squeezed out Like a kite refusing to soar high, I am now a bough on a sturdy stem, Resisting to be touched by the wind! You might think I have learned, To look at life with a level brow And enjoy the stillness of my mind, When the mad scramble in me dies. Perhaps you are right. But I detest this mental hiatus, This numbing languorousness, This sickening emotional torpor! Am I becoming a log over the moving currents? From this quiescent state, I look for a release.
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