Sleeping on Stones

The street is my mattress,

Stones my headrest,

The wind covers my body

Even as I curl up

Like a foetus

In a womb.

Roadside lamps –

My aid to study,

With cops punching me

As they demand:

“What are you doing, buddy?”

I hear that the world is advancing

To what I wonder!

My old man is still begging on the road

Even as the globe

Sells poverty

And promotes indignity.

One Shot Wednesday - Homelessness

Dust on the Soul

For This Week's One Shot Wednesday..

The early morning rays of the sun

splash my countenance

and I am awakened

out of my ignorant stupor.

Scores of queries

buried deep

in the squalor of a laid back existence

begin to torture my very soul.

"What is writ in my destiny?"

"Why can't I see beyond the fog of life?"

Some incomplete goal

lies awaiting my knock

on its beckoning door

and I am helpless

oblivious of that window

 to hope and fulfillment.

Cobwebs of ignorance,

dust of arrogance

lie untouched

wrenching my sudden thoughts

of reflection and realization.

Oh God! I beseech You

To show me the Way!