Paper Boats

Business Analysis is what I do,

falls the rain, rises the smell from earth,,

I forget the trends and the database,

And the clients and the Business Intelligence.

I suddenly lose all intelligence

And play a country song

And hum all along, my eyes closed

Somewhere far the peacock dances,

it is more beautiful than any report I’ve written

I go back to the old memories

Heap of papers on my desk

would make rather good paper boats, I think

I feel good, suddenly

despite all the software around me

I never let the soft part in me die

And the hardware

Well it just could not harden my heart

I still analyze

How Kings and Queens lived,

How poems are written,

How folk songs are sung,

How the birds sing,

How the sun rises,

How the stars twinkle,

And despite fundamental analysis

My fundamentals remain strong

I still believe in old stories

but find it difficult to believe

the stories my colleagues build

I believe chetak would wait

a season for the rain drops

but never will I believe

that people in office

waited for me before starting a party,

Somehow the older things

seem a lot more true

and try hard as I may,

I find no trace of truth

in words that go around in the workplace