Perspective

It’s a mad, mad, mad world.
It takes immense effort
to find an iota of peace
to calm
our throbbing nerves.
Sensibility
is a fleeting shadow,
time, a teasing lover.
 
Like children
in a spring garden,
we chase
after butterflies.
And when we catch one,
we don’t hold on to it
for even a blink –
to absorb its colors.
 
He stands
in the middle of a busy road.
Soft sunlight
streams
through his delicate fingers.
He stares
at the wonders
of the morning sky
and chuckles.
The laughter
lingers
on his face for too long.
 
They call him
a mad man.