Dharma and beyond

With Ramayana on my chest, I slept and wept,
seared by the promises I never kept.

To each his own Dharma, the best words He said,
for what you do here, He never really cared.

What do we do all day but turn the chakra a little more,
waiting for something to happen,
to shed the inertia of life,
to get it in motion again or just have it stop.

why does it come in parts,
why does it stand still as Ahilya at times craving for redemption,
why does it rise upon you like akshohinis of pishacas at other.

Being idle is such a waste,
for it gives you time to think.
All twisted and torn, you toss and turn,
searching for a solution, a setu to cross it all.

Mortal or not, you are bound to cry aloud,
for everything is so pointless and moot,
At such a mess how could He be proud,
for if humans are His best creation,
brains are were he went wrong.

Giving them the power to think,
To screw themselves inside out,
and others who cross paths on their own paths to doom.

Being happy is not my Dharma,
and I am glad that it is so.

hang, shoot, jump
and be off with it,
kyunki us paar na jaane kya hoga.

Do you really think someone's gonna miss you when you are gone,
You arrogant, self-obsessed fool,
Is it that what is stopping you, really
or is it your hedonistic self,
feeding on morsels of bliss like jatayus hunting for game.

So difficult to maintain insanity,
in this sane world driving itself to doom,

Sit down and ask,
what do you really want?
Ignorance.