FOOTPRINTS

i struggle

to stand

She pushes..

me back

i strain to say

to paint

the colour of

words

She helps..

n when it’s done

wipes it all..

away

blows..it to bits

like footprints

on sand

n guides my hand

all over again

She destroys..

She trains..

to comprehend

what i call

destruction

is just a process

not the end

just the path

not the goal

just the way

forward

not backward

just the next step

it’s what

the caterpillar sees

before being

given wings..

to fly

Rub..the rope

on me Mother

on my heart of

stone

like Kabirdasji

says..

Please..dont stop

until..the mark..

has worn me down

to the nothingness

i came from

i..mere illusion

Yes Ma..i accept

Your gift..

Of Gold

i understand

but not completely

why You gift me

a movie….