Poetry

Metamorphosis comes first,
said the path
missing the trail of truth.
Spirituality remained unconnected.
Cunning lies kept on
popping up like bush fires.
Non answering provoked
a wordless war between tall trees.

Non sleeping fears
held the linear perceptions.
Tirelessly the thoughts mapped
the doubts and plunged into grief.
A name was engraved on nevertime tomb.
Show me your tattooed skin,
a proof of a dream.

Don’t push it down, it is always there.
Your basic fear.
You want again to cook a slice of past.
A tragic penetration into darkness.
There is no immediate tomorrow.
You are seeking a burning star,
smacked of revenge.