We are all in the quest
Of making fools of others
And ourselves,
When we are writing something,
Reading something,
Singing something,
Staring at the walls,
At the mountains,
At the dead cat
At someone.
We will never know why we are here,
Among the cosmos,
If anything we do ever makes any sense
Against the infinities of time
And space
And the vastness of stories.
Not knowing anything
About who we are
What our souls are made of,
If it’s necessary for us to be here,
At this time,
Should make us crazy,
But we are not
Or, are we?
-Ron'e Dutta