The Innocent Touch.

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Life some days can be insane. This is yet another day that went wrong from all directions and fired back just wrong in all directions. Easier to say than live it. Recently I thought what do I want? The answer is not simple, I don’t need money, I don’t need any worldly pleasures. That’s just the simple way to put things forward. It gets very complicated from there. Maybe I am a material illusion of a spiritual truth none can ever comprehend.

I don’t want to confuse you folks. Here is a poem. I don’t know why I wrote it though hehehe.

The Innocent Touch.

Swaying up and down the swing lived,
Through many childhood in years passed,
Up onto unseen air the swing pushed,
Listening to the giggles of happiness of childhood.

The flying dust, the butterflies, the small surprised sparrow,
Oh’ all changed in the very many years galloped,
New faces, new voices, new costumes  all came and gone,
But the fun on the swing, Oh’ still remained in sway up and down.

Good times came, good times gone, all stirred up all around,
Oh’ about good and bad, what a little child should know,
So the swing went up and down to the giggles listening,
Shine or rain the swing can sway up and down.

Times have passed many good and bad days came and gone,
Children left the swing for the younger ones,
Many times the moon passed the earth,
Many, many times the sun and earth at each other looked,

Minds from dreams to dreamless went,
Every event with drama filled,
To take a deep breath none got time to spare,
In truth less souls illusions filled.

Monuments of millenniums stood bare naked,
The little child cared not for any monuments at all,
She went to the swing and climbed and swayed,
Up and down and the rusty cranks of chains in her giggles, drowned.

Then not from far an onlooker looked and with a smile left,
As deep in his soul he now knows,
All that stay stale must be moved with an innocent touch,
Then all that went around will come around.

No thoughts of worldly life touched him at all,
Life may have grounded every means of him,
No traditions, faith, color or class came to kill and die,
Only the sway of an old rusty swing in his mind filled.

His pace in steadiness with the wind quickened,
As in his soul giggles he once left at the swing, again filled,
Another child born again at the swing,
Ah’  there will always be a child to make the swing go up and down.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. All Rights Reserved-2010.

One Reply to “The Innocent Touch.”

  1. This one was a little difficult to decipher. It almost sounds as if an older onlooker is yearning to experience the young innocence again. Without a care and just freely spend their time in that old swing. It’s a gorgeous poem though. You have a specific style that I don’t see much on here.

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