By Jaya Nair
If I had found myself in
the same mountain slope as you
If the showers on you had befallen me
The pricks of thorns upon your skin had
torn, instead, me apart
I would well have become you, and
so would have you, me.
Don’t we all yearn for the same, get
crushed to smithereens by the same, and
fly to the heavens on similar wings?
Oh, I know for sure that it is
nothing but the turn of a dice that
I am me and you are you.
Barring all the frills out there,
deep down
where it matters most
we are all but one.
You,
or me.