Monday, January 11, 2010

Passions

I like
looking at numberless faces
passing by a busy street,
quietly ,smilingly,
a few without any pangs of expressing,
walking paces
filling in faces.

And you,
you are just one of them
and still not
a discard of street you are,
a man who is not moving,
a recluse renegade,
you and they across a barricade.

It is as if
all of them
belong to you,
every face their stories,
their expressions or the lack of it,
is a gift to your eyes.
Time is moving for them
not you
as if time is an ally ,
ally of a moment you are.

For those moments,
those private precious moments,
their are those people
and GOD.
In between the two
is your momentary abode.