When the dirt from the hot tear of my eyes,
Fall into the oyster thoughts of my urging mind,
I harvest pearls of various grades and sizes,
Tie together to keep on the altar in masses.
When the critical storms shaken up my rigid thinking,
I sway side by side for the storm to get pacified,
I pick up the lost momentum to think better,
and enjoy the aftermath of the stormy weather.
When the shades of spirits haunt me for fun,
I would play with them to startle them with my wits,
The threatened spirits run away for their dead life.
I move on with my own life without the nuisance of evils.
veeraiyah subbulakshmi
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/work-as-usual/
