Deep in the depths of your mind
Dwells a minuscule maelstrom
Churning out ego in small doses
Without creating a storm

Which feeds into your being
In nanoscopic proportions
Creating a sense of importance
With its sweet, musky potion

The more you mull over the fragrance
The more it looks like a goal
Till it begins to tug at your conscience
Through the spiralling suckhole

Gradually you lose control
With ethics becoming a casualty
The cesspool only getting bigger
With your ego seated in admiralty

Steering your life’s ship
To dangerously choppy swells
Where you are hardly in control
And all may be far from well

If a jagged rock sinks your ship
You may indeed be fortunate
For realisation may dawn early
Taking you away from the vortex

For the ones not so lucky
Realisation may never come
As you watch the eddies swallow you
And for straws you have none

Subir Chakraborty / 1st July 2018