Will I Be Like the Wind

Soon the wind turns

cold, making bare, grey skyline ,

will I be the wind?

Some day

will my children look at my

habits as fumbling dumbly about,

bedraggling everything,

as one large farcical being

nose-diving towards the end?

Is the frowning upon one’s elders

what spawned so many maxims attributing

them wisdom and deeming them respect-worthy?

Is it why an Indian’s grandchild greets the old ones

by prostrating and kissing their feet?

While the cold wind changes,

will I stay cold or allow my warmness

to breath more life onto what others

will make alive?

#317