Poem: A Mad Street?

A Mad Street?

- by Aditya Goel

Passing through mortal streets,
The madman barely escapes a car,
The driver with a calmly hurried face,
Talks to his manager while listening to the radio,
As he rushes his car, to what destination?

The madman continues down the street,
Concrete mixers tumble as men shout,
Another stands on the middle of the road,
Talking to who? talking about what?
With the same calmly hurried face.

Why do they rush? To fulfil desire?
Why this desire? But, what else can they do?
Is this how one lives? Should one live this way?

With clear blurry eyes,
He sees man scared of man,
But are their fears justified?
For man appears to be inconsiderate of man.
Deluded, he witnesses Moloch
Rising above from the depths of hell,
Terrorizing, drawing each away from liberation
into a hell, perhaps of their own making,
Or at least, of man's own making.

Looking at the heavens
He defiantly asks, but somehow
Ends up trying to choose.
But how should he choose?
For on both sides,
He sees only heaven doing its own bidding.
Confused? He looks at himself
Seeing heaven, contorted into meaning.

Arrogantly? He asks?
Should man be blamed for this
Or is it heavens, who decree such cruel fate upon men.
Who unleash these demons,
making rational men turn to vice in name of self-preservation.
Is it not heavens that made men restless
burdened by illusions of rush.

In resignation, he asks.
Given the chance
Would man want a life of 'peace' or this 'hectic' life?
Only heaven knows.