Swings And The Weight They Carry

Why do we avoid weight?

And in this accord,

Why do we expect others to fetch ours?

Why this inability to accept the mayhems -

Which are deemed to arise from our impotence

As wars deadly for our pride,

As fantasized armors 

Heavy for the tyrannies of our 'heavy self'?

Why do we suppose others live under no gravity?

Are we living in Ice Age,

That we don't sense the weight upon us that others bestow?

And in this respect,

Why aren't we it's victims in 'our' rosy dream world?

Are we this logically deficient

That we cannot see it unignorable?

Instead, why our minds closed its iron doors

Against the relief that

Weights can be shared instead of inflicted upon?

Have the thought ever struck us as high voltage that,

What would have happened if.......................

The River stopped carrying the weight of its serene depth?

The Trees unable to carry their beauties dropped their branches?

The Books closed their heavy pages holding endless literacy?

The Earth already massive stopped carrying your weight?

The Sun holding the System engulfed back its light?

A Swing silenced carrying the weights your fun?.....................................

Still we are so mean in first place,

Decoding above words as the weight nature 'carries',

While covering a pall on reality,

Which conveys that it 'shares' it among its systems.

Why is even physics ignored here,

We are so intelligent after all? Aren't we?

Was Newton wrong? And we aren't?

Enough of this rudeness surrounding my critique internal

For I know this stage, your hatred to me skyrocketed

For annoying your expectations eccentric.

'I am sorry ', I won't say either,

For I am just another man of your world.

Never mind,

For a while, let's meet one of my companions.

A three year old swing lie dusty, beautifying my room.

In its first year, as a mate, it shared the weight of my joy.

In second, as a friend, it shared the weight of my psyche tired alone.

In third, as a partner, when I lay bedridden,

It stands by my bedside,

Sharing the weight of my duties

For I am unable to reach its lap.

In the next, I am pretty sure,

In its emptiness, it will stop swinging joy, carrying my still grave.

But even then it will relax with its lullabies

My skeleton ashen holding your weight.

Humanity needs swings.

Can't we become one?

Can't we strive for swings instead of searching for our servants?

When weights overflow, can't we reach out for swings?

Assuming no logical retardation in this data-driven world,

Can't we make out if these heavy waters really overflow,

Or we leave our outlets open?

Anyways, whatever be it, 

The world still has swings -

Maybe hidden, maybe visible

Maybe nice, or maybe helpful but still rude

Enough to make you furious

Just you are, at the moment, at me.

What's wrong in learning to carry weight, eh?

What's wrong, at first place, in keeping weights? 

For weights, another beauty of nature,

Are also beautiful, given we end heavily guarding 'our' softer sides.

Weights are also 'orangeful' in first place

For only their presence makes the swings swing.

Weights are clues allotted for writing our stories salute-worthy.

At the end, we are nothing, if we fully transmit our weights,

Waiting for Superman to be called at our rescue.

So can we embrace our weights,

And use them in merrily swinging our swings?

Tagging those interested: @twerp , @Slyhterinqueen456 , @Peonywisteria22 , @Ankush1509 , @wishfulashx , @OnyxMcG .

Thanks @AnnaSilverberg for coining a 'wonderful' word I have used here.