Fading
A poem...
A splash in a still puddle...
when do the ripples end?
At what moment is the water still again?
At what point does the puddle become dry ground?
When does Vishnu become Shiva?
How can that which is,
beget that which is not?
When do the ripples end?
Why do we seek to fit the infinite in a frame?
Why does the dream we had have to die?
When I am gone
and you are no more
when our old story is drowned in a million others
they will look at the puddle and say the water is still
But how can they say that when they cannot answer
when do the ripples end?