Where Is The Difference? Poem by Mohabeer Beeharry

You think we are different
Because we look different?
But who knows what unseen forces had moulded us, age after age?
Have made us fruits of different trees?
They have made me sour and you sweet.
They have made you sour and me sweet.
Yet both our lives hang on the precarious swings of that fleshly pendulum.
When the sun sets, we both look for comfort
In the arms of the nightly slumber;
When our throats are parched,
We both look for the fountain to quench our thirst;
At the vehemence of the nightly nightmares,
We both sit up in bed, dearly wishing for the day to break.
And when finally the frail pendulum ceases to swing,
We both are forced to tug our tails in
And ease out into that same immense and blind
Nothingness, leaving behind the pampered pride and hoarded wealth.
We are like the waters of the fabled well,
Who knows where from we come,
And where to we go.