A poem penned by Sadhguru on the city that never sleeps.
Like termite mounds these dwellings of humans rise Everyone of his own purpose lives and walks this busy maze
Many a good man has lived and died held in the spell of this dizzy haze The lure of the maze transcends all class and grade
The prostitute and the saint the musician and the actor and of course the slick businessman, all come to do their own trade
If you walk a mile, you can smell it all the stench of prosperity and poverty food and filth sin and sainthood life and death