take a moment to step aside,
stand upon the footpath-
lean against a wall,
and look, just look at the long rusted chains
of unbroken footsteps.
look at the man caressing a bow
upon the strings of a violin
and doors of its brown leather case left open
for the passersby,
look at flowers poking through the railings,
at you, on balconies set above salons,
grocery stores and to-let boards,
let the wind caress your face,
smother its hands upon your hair
and settle upon the cuff of your shirt,
float in an endless fluid of translucency
that doesn’t ripple with your touch.
let your consciousness rest at the church gate.
look at people beyond car windows,
shopkeepers sitting beneath a fan,
dogs yawning and gathering
on moist clay,
look, just look at the incessant shades,
the funny-restless gathering
you were just now a part of.