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From a Kilometre Away from Outer Space

INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION | Image from a public domain website

If left with any choice or not at all,
I’d just leave the bow and let the arrow shoots itself;
There’s little that can be expected from whatever spot it hits,
For it is already written in black and white, the meaninglessness

Yes, how we do expect the result will change
Our fate if at all we do hit the target,
if not for the fleeting sense of achievement in this existence
in which we label things to measure, to identify

We’re lost without the identity;
We’re lost without a sense of purpose;
We’re lost without a make-believe conviction;
We’re lost without the dead gods and egoistical yet fancifully named spirituality

Neither the kings are spared—who in each corner have
Self-styled themselves into masters and made the followers their slaves,
Just as in one invading another, conquering another
—and make the most ridiculous statements such as the world can be seen
only from economic perspectives

The filth in us and the expressionless symmetry in anything but ours,
The ridiculous merge of science and religion;
Everything is so surprisingly clear, morning-dewy clear,
What’s us and what’s around us
But not what’s to become of us


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