Hinduism
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Who doesn't want a storybook life?
Just write it all in and cut out the strife
Who said that you can't write your own story
Like a Disney hero you can rise to glory
No such thing as fate no such thing as a curse
So many tools
At my disposal
The wings of Garuda
A powerful parrot
We speak back and forth
Discussing our days
Different but similar, in distinct scenes
Interpretations of that which is “eternal”
Some of the bounded in settings infernal,
Variations seen
In the beginning, man created ideas
I continuously shuffle the cards of life
Searching for the answer of my wife
On a rotary phone in Cleveland
But only receive a land line
From Colorado this time
So without a doubt you know
Creed
I write in an ink
Encapsulated in plastic
foreign to the usual mold.
Shaped by a known, yet
Overlooked manufacturer.
I remember only certain
Aspects of life matter.
Based on a Hindu legend.
As a young girl, you chased moksha—
the sky lantern—through the slums barefoot,
ruffled swags of damp towels as you dove into the
He wanted her to heal his heart
She wanted to give him her heart
He has felt pain and so has she
She does not fear it, for it is how she can see
See into his soul and deeply understand
How I am flawless?
What a bore,
These weak and fragile ideals,
We hold them close,
To build ourselves up,
But the world in its flawless heart,
Strikes us into chaos
How am I flawless?
