A minimizing effect of the totalizing reality,

A hand burnt in the sun, jarred with the possibility of a shoe polish.

Constant pull and push culminated in a commodity,

Of labour, of exchange, and mythical historicity.


Sweat piercing the skin in the brightly lit sunlight,

Slowly becomes a tear colluding vision,

As the motion accelerates, so is the vision furthered


It is not me, you but the general whole

It’s not even a conspiracy, or a tragedy, but the reality

A design, a designation of unequal equals


The shoe had to shine,

And he had to polish, though he could,

Do the other as well.


Each grotesque act had its own music;

And the end,

Was a congregation of magnificent discordance?

(Enakshi Sharma)


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