Not a Poem

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this is not the poem I began to write.
this is the poem that got written.
this is not the hunger I wanted to fight.
this is the apple that got bitten.

this is not the pen and ink I chose.
this is the white page I left behind.
this is the river of dust that rose.
this is the diamond I could never find.

this is not the world I wanted to make.
this world came to me by magic.
this is not the life I wanted to fake.
this end will inevitably be tragic.

this is that and always that I shall miss.
this mystery slips in a speck of sand.
this is who I am and who I am is this.
this is a poem I just don’t understand.

More from Rahul:

Sleeping Fireflies

With a Whisper