Boot Camp

I have been patient

And now I want to break loose

It is time for leave


But there is work, yet

To be done before the end

There is no rest here


Duties fill my mind

My hands from scrubbing

There is no laughter


There is little joy

Marching under the hot sun.

Day by day by day


Our spirits are stained

We neither wilt nor blossom

Work under pressure


No play-time no fun

Up the hill like Sisyphus

Dread the daily run



Always looking for something

Sequencing events


Following functions

Trying, trying all the time

To find the order


Age and grow older

There is no escape, we are

Woven Fate’s skein


Spinning on the wheel

Each and every thread, a line

Spun in the shadows


Soiled in the sunlight

Unravelling like poor cloth

And secretive truths


Trackless as the sea

The inscrutable Brachma



Each tear, an Atman

Like the dew on Maya’s face

Sweet as her sorrow