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

Searching

Examination

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

Intraversable

 

Each tear, an Atman

Like the dew on Maya’s face

Sweet as her sorrow