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Turn It Up.

Thursday, September 3, 2015

Childhood 5 : Imagination


His night is dark, so in city lights
He never sleeps.
Having faced scarce a brick wall,
He never stops.
He slept under infinite stars: numbers
Are his friends --

The city limits us, but he is free.

In the farmlands of the hinterland,

Books don't punish.
They don't prod or goad or compel,
For they are joy
To collect, covet, play with,
Pass the time --

Opportunity limits us. He's free.

The time that we wait for to come

For him, is now.
The growing up that was never ours
Is his, by fire.
We live by clocks -- he is disciplined
By the ancient sun.

Indian Standard Time sets him free.

When spoken to, we attempt to find

Meaning and logic.
He understands words as his books
Told him they were.
We imagine the future, best and worst
He feeds on today.

Unchained by fantasy, he is free.


Dedicated to my new brother at CMI: the inimitable PBT.


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