Tread on my dreams

But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
William Butler Yeats

Common man poor. Poor common man. Tread softly friends. I live by the inch of my life. Wife gets water 4 a.m. in the morning, I leave house after half a bucket water bath. Soap is a month old used by the 4 of us sparingly. Tread softly dear friend. Say thank you when I clean your tables in your daily hangouts or make the paan after a heavy meal. Tread softly.

Squeezed am I between the hoary past I left behind to find shelter in this mother city. She embraced me, she nursed my battle wounds. Fugitive was I. Lost in her crore folds and myriad shades. Yes, I speak of my mother. Marred and lusted after her blood by thirsty war mongers.

No longer they require battle fatigues and a ground to make it red. They prefer entering houses uninvited to satiate their bloodlust. Hungry wolfs were better. They had hunger for excuse. These wolfs know of no hunger, know of no love. They don’t hunt for their small ones, they hunt to rip out people of their bare existence.

Tread carefully my brother. I am made the same as thee. I am made of thee. I am thee.

Regards,

Cerebral Zephyr