Temerity between the binaries

The space between the binaries,

like the water of the waterfall

between the ledge and the lake,

is impetuous and temporally wasted.

The epochal interregnum between the binaries
Of Right and Wrong, Of Yes and No,
looks down the soul
of the instrumental scientific temper of the times,
of Modernity,
of the primordial culture in vogue,
of the glazing surface intellect,
of the deafening sound of silence.

It bypasses the human frailties and
eavesdrop on life growing into death.

There is a quixotic tinge to
the space between the binaries.
There, lie the unheard and unexplored
treasure troves of significant insignificance.

While fathoming the emptiness inside,
and traversing the edges of the lunatic fringe,
life comes to death
and death to life.

Joining the dots

Distributed among mendicants
of frugal wisdom, is the sweet
ale of scattered spirituality.
With the waving of the magic wand,
the trials and tribulations soot away,
the faithful is down on his knees,
kissing the spectre of the spelled cast, heavenly.

Deliverance of an asymmetrical tale
opens up the path to truthfulness,
bypassing the busy downhill boulevard,
blessed with the sanctimonious nod,
the one chastised as
the highway to God.

Ordinariness

He struggles to find the appropriate word.

He oozes perfunctory self-assurance.

He never takes the path less travelled by.

He is fulfilled at the distant sight of joy.

Night is just an internecine,

a time warp where sides are changed,

when he takes an (un)ethical stance,

while cruising in a ship of forlorn hope.

He has an opinion on everything,

the kind that does not really matter.

He was fed on a false future

all his life. Some of which, he

redeems from his wife.

Trying to improve his lot, he

worked his fingers to their bone.

He fakes emotions with consummate ease.

While giving his child lessons in morality,

he greases the palms of those who swore

contemporaneous honesty.

In a teeming sea of ordinariness,

he will pass you - unnoticed,

you’ll never remember his wrinkled face,

and on the final arrival, in death,

while obviating his last trace,

they will cover his stupid face.