In the frothy sea of self-loathing
I floundered and drifted,
Like a dead piece of wood,
Like a straw that stayed afloat
Because it had no weight,
Like the hollow bones of a bird
Wings devoid of feathers
Plucked out by itself.
I called out to her to save me
To pull me out into her soft arms
And cradle me in her tender breasts.
She said: I have no sympathy
For you, nor time to indulge
Your sorry false self. It’s you
I love, and I need your love,
So you better swim out of this hell.
And slowly, painfully, I did.


I have always been a great believer. I've flitted from one belief to another, from religion to atheism and from one philosophy to another, until I finally settled on J. Krishnamurti whose philosophy is that there is no philosophy. So now I firmly believe that there is nothing to believe. Now such a belief would, I believe, have been considered dangerous to society if the authorities had believed me to be of any consequence. No man of consequence they believe would waste his time on the pursuit of blogging!

Posted in poem
2 comments on “Saving
  1. Ajay Thakwani says:

    Hello sir. Hope you are doing good. Regards

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