Akash MehtaSeptember 3, 2018The Question of MeaningPoetry

the ubiquitous lawyer is shouting on a phone while hurrying through
the streets of some unimportant city the size of –

no time no time no time for explanations no time for things that don’t matter

-it goes-

there are meetings that need attending to
children that need to be driven home from school

a busy old lawyer who has to go and – no time for more

-it keeps on going-

the lawyer is rushing running shoving through the mass of bodies
he ignores the curses directed at him he goes and goes and then.

I see something. Something exquisitely beautiful. I stop.

-Stop. I stop-

I see a sidewalk. I see that the sidewalk is gray. I see that it is cracked. I see it. I see it
supporting something. It supports Life. Individual lives but also one Life. One Life. Incorporating all the dogs on leashes. All the exhausted candy seller men.

-I stop. I look. I see. -

I see. I see a candy wrapper, lying on the street. It bears the shoeprints of hundreds of Busy, bustling feet.

Laughter. Sobs. Groans. Exclamations. Flat tones. Menacing voices. Barks. Life.

-You are. It is. He is. Something – everything – exists.

I see. I see a homeless man. He is bundled up. In a torn-up sleeping bag. He leads a life. A simple one. A good one. A better one (than).

He is true.

-I think. –

I see. I see myself. I am free. I am wise.
It doesn’t mean everything. It doesn’t mean I don’t have go to. My meeting.

But it means that my meeting is not all. It means. Thoughts. Life. Everything.

-I am the same. I am different. I am.-

I go (again), but I stopped.