LEAVING HOME ANEW
I want to be tired and unsound. I wish to be
believed but doubted, heard but misunderstood.
There is a pepper spice in the river today, and so
many visitors have thrown their little idols into
the water - a chubby little elephant God who
divines creativity and fosters mirth. Everything
sinks to the bottom - by the weekend, the picnickers
will be back, staring out and chanting to the waters.
-
I am never callous and I feel for every thing. I hurt
when others do so, and I most often am just as confused
as they may be too : idols thrown in the Raritan? No, no,
my friends this here is not the Ganges, nor is this heart
the heart of a God, a God to watch, and pray to, and see.
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