Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say: 'I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all'
I've been rather busy with work for the past few weeks, and today, I finally sat down to clean up the mess accummulated in my bedroom. For some reason, bedrooms are usually the place that suck in books, magazines, notepads and other sundry written materials, and somehow, in the process, I discovered this poem I'd written last year. I dont know why I wrote it but I thought it was such a coincidence that the poem talked about the very thing that I was doing this evening.
let me clean the wardrobe today and retrieve the lost innocence of my boyhood days: the t-shirts and jeans that saw my youth fade like the fabric itself and the jacket that made a man out of me.