Present

Present is the belly fear gone
With a burden of old choices.
It is just this much, not more
In a sky of neverchanging light.
Its horizon is a transfixed line
As in schoolkid’s sketchbook
With birds’ v-lines stuck in it.

Ambitious boys we have seen
In our falling skies remain stuck
Like the v-lines of birds flying
In a sky, not taking their form
Their past frozen before birth.
Even a farmer with the plough
Stays put under this glass sky.

(reference is to painting titled The fall of Icarus by Peter Brueghel)

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