Sunday, November 26, 2006
Every evening a visit to a grocery store,
Looking and asking for the price,
Of various vegetable like thoughts,
Bargaining for the ones I like,
Accepting the tag for the ones I love,
The line between need and want,
Drawn by the tongue;
And in the pan,
The oil of desires heated,
The seeds of faith crackle,
The extra flavour of, The spicy wordly enchantments,
Added and mixed;
The meal is served,
Garnished by a few leaves, Aromatically practical,
In a bowl thats made of sillicon and sand,
Yet transparent to the core;
Laid on the sandal wood table,
The cutlery shining,
The crystal glass filled with clear water,
And still the tongue,
Wants something different, something more,
The aroma fails to tickle the taste buds,
And the mind gets filled with Tasteless thoughts.
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