Nupur Chaturvedi

The manufactured half-truths of a tired mind
Take on unpolished, unfinished contortions
Rendering simple thoughts complicated
Leaving the poor, tired mind confused.

Why do we do it
This exercise in futile industry?
Deliberate efforts to crowd our thoughts
With intricate fabrications
And then exhausted when we get tangled
In yarns we spin for ourselves.

Does everyone do it
This acrobatic engineering
Or is it the cultivated skill of a few?
I, for one, long for rolling meadows and sunshine daisies,
Lying for hours contemplating nothing
And then, going home to evening tea.