I will meet you somewhere down the road, after each particle in brain is pulled over in some random senseless direction, about some thing very important, which couldn't ever wait.
Some where at a dog eared corner of the organiser amidst a cacaphony of things to do, there is a small note for you also.
One day will leave the din, forget the things to do, plunk the phone in a pool, lose the mobile internet connection and will leave with just the humility of a wanderer. Will stop just eyeing the roads through tinted glass of air conditioned travel coaches and will join the trail of the dust. Will stop treating love like another chore, with a list of friends to be met per fornight and routine calls to mom.Will blink into an oblivion, knowing well that those who matter will still be around.
Will listen to the old monk's wisdom in a strange incomprehensible language, will sit by the river, walk through the mountains,graze the sheep,wear the dancer's anklets and the monk's renunciation. Will live many lifetimes and will learn the insignificance of existence.
Till all that unfolds, please stand near the corner of the din, and let me be a very busy head clerk