Familiarity With A New Born Day
the cocks still crow this early morning
same footfalls passing and stamping on the road
the same trails from the house to the market to the church
back home and same sounds of the gate opening and closing
and same chill of the air from the sea to the mountain
over and over again on this familiarity from day one to day one hundred
till the thousandth
this familiarity that breeds contempt
it is trying to kill us all
but there is this thing inside that keeps burning
this fire this light
it tells us keep going for one day this boredom that tries to kill us
shall soon be a big day for you and for all of us
nirvana, heaven, rebirth, the dusts that stick on our feet
wanting to be alive again and be the flowers under the gentle rain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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