Could Fulfillment Ever Be Felt As Deeply

Slowly, Painstakingly, Like Ants, Men Would Make Their Paths And Civilization And Their Wars Once Again, Only To Have It Wash Away Again.

But Then, How Could You Have Any Self-respect Knowing That You Didn't Believe In Anything Exactly? How Did You Embrace What Was Yours If You Didn't Leave Something For It? How Did You Create A Life Of Meaning And Pride?

She'd Have To Propel Herself Into The Future By Whatever Means Possible Or She'd Be Trapped Forever In A Place Whose Times Had Already Passed.

Jemu Watched His Father Disappear. He Didn't Throw The Coconut And He Didn't Cry. Never Again Would He Know Love For Another Human Being That Wasn't Adulterated By Another, Contradictory Emotion.

When He Died, I Went About Like A Ragged Crow Telling Strangers, "my Father Died, My Father Died." My Indiscretion Embarrassed Me, But I Could Not Help It. Without My Father On His Delhi Rooftop, Why Was I Here? Without Him There, Why Should I Go Back? Without That Ache Between Us, What Was I Made Of?