Even the most parsimoniously slavering form of light;
is an infinite times better than the endlessly
ghoulish mortuary of treacherously asphyxiating
darkness,

Even the most infinitesimally diminutive form of
strength; is an infinite times better than the endless
coffins of remorsefully decrepit fear,

Even the most inconspicuously ethereal form of water;
is an infinite times better than the endlessly
crucifying and barbarously sweltering sand of the
desert,

Even the most nimbly mercurial form of vivaciousness;
is an infinite times better than the endlessly ghastly
jungles of concretely unemotional monotony,

Even the most fugitively nonchalant form of literacy;
is an infinite times better than the endlessly
dolorous well of ignominiously lambasting
unemployment,

Even the most inconspicuously disappearing form of
happiness; is an infinite times better than the
endlessly hopeless dungeon of inexplicably besmirched
sadness,

Even the most ephemerally silent form of faithfulness;
is an infinite times better than the endlessly
salacious road to vindictively vituperative betrayal,

Even the most inanely tiny form of dwelling; is an
infinite times better than the endlessly whiplashed
body aimlessly sauntering on boundless kilometers of
lackadaisical mud,

Even the most moderately stingy form of food; is an
infinite times better than the endlessly devastating
battlefield of baselessly torturous and brutally
incarcerating hunger,

Even the most evanescently measly form of fruit; is an
infinite times better than the endlessly crucifying
gallows of disastrously wretched impotency,

Even the most frugally abstemious form of speech; is
an infinite times better than the endlessly obsolete
mist of acrimoniously orphaned and preposterously
wanton dumbness,


Even the most transiently small form of selflessness;
is an infinite times better than the endlessly
prejudiced ghosttown of salaciously parasitic greed,

Even the most minutely petite form of compassion; is
an infinite times better than the endlessly bereaved
icicles of frigidly obfuscated and lugubriously
shriveled nothingness,

Even the most prematurely microscopic form of
artistry; is an infinite times better than the
endlessly tyrannized jail of cold-bloodedly massacring
and indiscriminately obnoxious debauchery,

Even the most truncatedly miniature form of honesty;
is an infinite times better than the endlessly
horrifying apocalypses of flagrantly sordid lies,

Even the most rarely measured forms of humanity; are
an infinite times better than the endlessly dogmatic
tunnel of rampantly blood-sucking crime,

Even the most fadingly teeny forms of wisdom; are an
infinite times better than the endlessly unsolicited
feces of lecherously wastrel foolishness,

Even the most restrictedly Spartan form of love; is an
infinite times better than the endlessly pulverizing
hell of abhorrently malicious and acridly hedonistic
betrayal,

Even the most rapidly disappearing form of
enchantment; is an infinite times better than the
endlessly squelching maelstrom of deliriously
pugnacious loneliness,

And even the most laconically wrinkled form of life;
is an infinite times better than the endlessly
scurrilous and torturously exonerating noose of
mercilessly demeaning death…




(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.