..the Man thinking, or the Thinking man....

The Man Thinking or The Thinking Man

Sometimes i wish was not a thinking man,
or even the man thinking, standing still,
the stone sculpture, blazed by the heat
ravaged by the cold, no inkling of a movement

Each element of my existence craves for the residence
in this moment, live in the air, smell,
views go by in this second never to return
The heart pains as silently like rocks pounded by waves

Who am I, Why am I the I here,
Oh, the world today is inverse of all i have lived till date,
They say men are flexible, to me men seem like space-ibles,
hanging in space, observing humanity in its own exile from a distance

There, still the man thinking or the thinking man,
nerves taught tonight, bleeding, crying till the edge of my eyes,
no drops well out, tucked in an exile even a pendulum swinging,
knows better, I dont, if I am the Man thinking, or the thinking Man..



~exams are just a few days away. Its colllldd here. I study to the best of my abilities, while beyond that i watch tender disconsolate tears-causing movies like Dr Zhivago, or Il Postino.