Why

Past has written everything
Future is an unsolved puzzle
Present is revealing its colours
Now, what shall I write?
And what shall you read?

Scribble my pen, the ignorant world
for the men who missed to hear
Scribble my pen, the unheard mysteries
for the men who are curious
Scribble my pen, whatever you feel

Yet, what do I write?
What do you read?
Does it make any difference?
Can it diffuse a bomb
Or can it stop an accident

Nothing can the poem do
Then why should I write?
And why should you read?
To just fool the mirage, time
Or is it a showoff?




--Shalini Samuel