Indigo Pendant

It seems like a naively short while ago,
staring at a gleaming sheet of the whitest paper,
carefully drawn margins,
neat rulers, labeled by passion, markers of futures,
in abstract we live a long glorious dream.
I had visions of distant towers,
flower maidens on the parapets,
green jade mountains of earthly paradise,
utopic sand-castles.
The wind whispered of truths to be.

I am no longer a lover,
the festive lights were taken down last tuesday,
the sounds of the hustling street are clear through the open window.
A man with a back-breaking load to bear,
a child with wide open eyes outstretched dirty little fingers
he reaches towards you following you around hurriedly as you try to push him away,
hand to mouth, mouth begging for paisa.
There is a grating sound from the nearby factory.
And I lie mouth agape,
my face reflected in a cracked mirror,
my soul feeling like a lost penny, small and alone.
I can move through this world and hear the laboured breathing.
I don't have the energy to move my hands to come to its aid.
The clarity of conviction is the luxury of the ignorant.
And ignorance is truly bliss.