Accidents happen / happen / happen / happen

(This one without poet license. This one with ranting license. Beware! ) 

In a parallel universe

I would have overslept

that day

and I would have been an hour late at work

and gotten into trouble for it

but I would have been ok.

In another parallel universe

I would not have overslept

and would have been taken to the hospital

right after the accident

instead of too late

And I would have been ok, eventually.

In yet another parallel universe,

the emergency room of the hospital

would have scolded my GP,

for sending me for x-rays ten days late

Then, they would advice me to stretch my leg

as far as possible

before putting me in a cast from hip to toe

and I would have been ok-ish, eventually.

In yet another parallel universe,

at day 13,

the hospital personal would have listened

and recognised what I said and what they saw

when they removed the cast in emergency

And I would have had a last chance, to be ok, in near-ish future

In yet another parallel universe,

at day 23,

the hospital personal would have noticed

the bruises and sores and hyper sensitive nerve endings,

after taking off the second cast

and they would have acted accordingly

And I would have been ok, after 6 months, or so.

Instead of one year later

…. and going / going / going / going …..

..

Perfecting Imperfections

I should celebrate the turn of events

that broke me, accidently,

earlier this year

A grant plan in the bigger scheme;

controlling my unstoppable motion,

silencing my knee-jerk fear

of never getting up once seated

… And now I sit 

… and all I do is wonder

… How do I stand it?

… How did I?

..

After all

It is a bit of a useless feeling

U s e l e s s

Contributing to nothing, really

A bit like me …

But that is a useless feeling

Eating away any lingering usefulness

Like a shadow of crows

Landing on a field of reaped sunflowers 

Innocent

The rampage trail

Of the sad elephant

The flutter of a bird

Trying to be butterfly heard

The desperate reach

Of a small hand’s angle

The brightest idea

Of the bigger bungling me

We are sliding

Upwards down

We are hiding

We are hiding

Until gone

It’s the token dream

Stirring up the rarest team

It must be in this nominal class

And my pliancy of resistant mass

That

We are sliding

Upwards down

And up

We are hiding

Until we matter

We are hiding

Hiding until gone

..

Unfound

By holding everybody else’s fortress

You kept the peace

And successfully build

A ruin of your own dominion

..

Underneath my big umbrella

And just like that

Summer is over

Big clouds gather

And disassemble

Like the trees

Giant showers of sorrow

Waiting for tomorrow

To arouse

The spring in my step

..

..

Coeval ghosts

Among the crowd of hurried people

the one standing still

to notice

does not get noticed

but trampled

by passers by

who look the other way

ashamed to seem distinct

brushing

an untouchable

..

Tea ritual

This is not a fragment

This is almost everything

This who I am,

Really am, right now

Utterly bare and completely me

Does that make this the final end?

Am I finished now?

Am I ready?

Actually, yes!

I am ready.

This is my Tea Ritual:

Sometimes you fall into perfect pieces 
when you abandon initial design

..

Popular titles that say nothing in saying it all

Unfinished is one of those

like

Broken

or Damaged

or Shadow

And how about

Night,

Darkness, even

Where the moon prays on the damned

But shouldn’t it be:

Damned be all,

if we are ever to overcome

such Tragedy

of being

just who we are

Foolish,

Destined

Mortals

Wearing our claims like a malady;

splendidly weary and trodden

A literary life

Or travesty?

..