Heard the master shouting,
felt him pull the reins.
I galloped, galloped, and galloped,
with wrists in pain.

I starved for a pat,
and starved for the grain.
Twisted, faster, better—
all strain in the vein.

One day, I broke the tether,
and galloped in the rain.
No reins, no master—
yet I feared the wild again.

I slowed before the morning,
unsure of any aim.
They found me where I started,
and led me back unchanged.

I was leashed before daylight,
the reins felt just the same.
I galloped, galloped, and galloped—
freedom was never the game.

© Amit Choudhary, 2010 (Post 9P)

Hey, beautiful day, I just wanted to wish—
listen—what your beauty means to me.

My eyes open—6:30, like yesterday;
they know they will not see, even today.

My body bathes, as needed, to face the day;
it knows it will not feel the touch today.

I meditate—it cools the mind every morning;
yet I know, it changes nothing.

Dawn, dusk, or noon—
no flavor.

I know it all,
yet I go on, with a fake smile.

Boring—smile-less, fun-less days;
again, and again—
when do they stop?

I no longer wait for anything to happen;
still, I go to office—
a machine, moving levers.

Years ahead—no cheer,
lived like the dead;
fake, worthless cheerfulness,
worn every day.

Hey, iteration—
the day returns,
and I say,
good morning, once again.

© Amit Choudhary, 2012 (Post 6P)