Poetry

Let be it. 
The little bowl abandoning 
the unreachable pink-light. 
Ambrosia- 
was searching a geometric center 
of a smoking hub. 
 
Flame- 
of a bonefire was leaping 
towards a topless tumbler. 
The midriff 
will spell a disaster. 
 
A nomadic- 
sleepwalker had become incandescent, 
starts a prayer 
for a condemned enemy. 
 
My body was a river. 
flowing- 
on the impacted rocks of violence. 
Was non-violence still relevant 
in turbulent times? 
 
Give me some unreason today.