Oldie Oldan Oldum

Oldie has come. Oldan has come. Oldum has come. Not three different persons. But the same. Oldie oldan oldum has come. To the terrace. For the delight of all the children. Yes, and to fly kites he has come. Worst of the faces. 85 years of age. Face sunken like a pulp ridden mango. Bald, except for some bushes above both ears. And these few hair he has dyed black. There is an evilness in him. Evilness towards the female species of man. He is also experienced in life. He has mixed this evilness with humor. He is like a hungry hyena, but a laughing hyena too. He has accomplished nothing of worth in life. He has wasted his life on worldly things. He is about to die. He knows all these things. But he has had some experience too. He should not be carefree considering all these things. Yes, but he is carefree. Flowing with his laughing evilness and flowing with his kite. He looks through the corner of his eyes. Oldie oldan oldum looks…stares…or enjoys this life. Nothing can be said. Everything can be said. A thin old man. Has seen everything. He says he had not fallen into the spiritual trap in this life. Has he lost something? He says nothing he has lost. A few days of his life are left. His life has youth. His life is living and with some evil humor. His life is not dull. On the terrace, a blue pigeon is waiting for its mate. It looks into the distance with eager drops of love in its pink eyes. The pigeon thinks of its beloved. This is the only thought in its mind. The pigeon has loved. Oldie has never.

© Manan sheel.

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an artist, poet, singer and engineer. trying to introduce heart into the world of mind.

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manan sheel

manan sheel

an artist, poet, singer and engineer. trying to introduce heart into the world of mind.

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