RandomImageriesOfZeMinD!

An eyelash fell on my fingers,
a strand of hair sticking on my coat,
nails looks dirty and brittle,
I see dead cells come alive and die again,
I wonder how strange we are.

Strangers we find strange,
of people we mock and talk,
but we too are in the mandala.

A spider spins a web somewhere,
A man builds a house,
A lion pride hunts in the Serengeti,
A cat purrs, the sun is tired and the moon lazy,
but the man, the man is the man, never fatigued,
ideas and words and letters and bombs and blasts
and boredom.

Ask a man to sit alone in a room,
24 hrs and he is slightly mad,
so much he can live with himself.
He needs a remote, a paper, a smoke, a drink,a ball/balls
something to fiddle and meddle,
so much he needs to be himself.

A chillum baba of the Ganges,
A saint chewing cocoa leaves in South America,
A Buddhist monk in a cave on the Himalayan top,
each one, a Nostradamus wanting to be,
when all is clear, when all is known,
nothing but death surrounds,
play the music of life,
but even a symphony has to end,
silence will rule,
but someones music has just begun,
so the Mandala,
spins, spins,
it hurts my head, it spins,
so does earth everyday!