One of those winter noons. The sun is dipping behind the puffy snow clouds, the left out light put out by the shady clouds. One of those days when I prefer to drop the blinds, turn on the yellow neon lights and let them shimmer out the darkness behind.
One of those days when I start my day with beer, feel elated and think I have the cure. Yeah, sure thing one of those days that happens to be my every other day. Suddenly out from nowhere springs a thought..no end for them though. I've realized that thoughts are directly proportional to the space in an emptied out bottle. I'm only glad that mine is pure and selfless.
This one happens to be on homelessness. Isn't it a privilege to wake up in the morning and not ACTUALLY worry about food? I mean I worry more about what my breakfast would be. Now I think of people who wake up in the morning with their stomachs growling and crying for one piece of loaf. The heart has got so numb that it doesn't know hunger anymore. Just another pain to live with.
I take a look around me. My comfort zone which doesn't make me happy anymore. Being relative stops when you stem from reality. For me right now reality is utopia. It is of being selfless. For a minute let me step outside this body and soul and take a look around. What do I get to see?
How priviliged are they not? The Gita and Bible and Quran does not answer the man in pain. To a hungry man, religion does not fucking matter. It does not. He has better qualms to silence. AM I not the sum? The ONE? If then, 'am I not answerable to that man's call?
Why do I walk away?
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