Pathos and Beauty
-Mridara

A madman I see everyday, rolling on the dirt pavement unmindful of dangers prevail.
I wonder about his delirious mind; did he have a past? does he have a present? would he ever see a future?
A conversation he held with himself about adventures had; the little girl who ran on seeing him, the old man who kicked him and on and on his list went until all the days events were discussed.
My observations he notes, his eyes piercing he returns back my stare, scared I move away, his interest distracted he hobbles mischievously towards another intruder, stone in hand.

Happy he seemed, sadness an aspect of life that didn’t make sense, A companion he had in himself, a pleasure sometimes barred to the dependent sane.

- 22 / 1/ 2006