THE UNTOUCHABLE
M. K. GANJU
His being–
Vacuum of unknown outcomes;
A speck
On the vortex
Of unfamiliar apprehensions;
From the loner labyrinths
Emerges no image;
Neither hope nor rage,
Neither time past nor time future;
Only the terror of present,
And the present’s
humiliation.
Caught
In the penumbra of arrogance,
Victim
Of the pitiless power,
Eclipsed
By the revelation
Of his own insignificance;
A gray dawn
Of futility
When the social rhythm
All but fails.
The moment knows
No hope,
Knows only
The schism of the soul,
Beneath the unknowing
chasm.
That glance of contempt,
Pierces the heart
As a cold steel shaft,
Overwhelmed by the anguish,
Stirring
The inner recesses
Of the heart;
The moment’s pain
Imprinted on the mind,
Which no experience
Can erase.
The mind sucks the shock;
But “Being” hovers around,
Obsessed, without rest;
Perches on the inward logic’s rock,
Searching in the sea of quest,
Emerges the answer:
Revolt or Forgive.