Passing through greyish corridors, I am judged
By grave faces bearing veils of tabloid grievance,
who seek to rectify old debts and new bondages
That I am utterly innocent of bestowing upon them.
Yet people feel they are owing, when they should be knowing,
To bend their egotism, gather friends and foes, yet culpa,
strangeness in relations
That made them forget true selves, before imagined change.
The landscape Is not shifting, The trees surrounding the
lake point to the generous Mountain ranges, ever climbing waterfalls calling.
I open the door and exit, struck by daylight to seek out the wilderness.
- Rahul Palma