Poetry

There was a road to landslips. 
Why would the mountain break 
for consanguinity? 
 
You had spurned the hovering 
clouds altering the means 
of communication― 
 
by adopting the lightning 
for jousting with new gods. 
As the thin cobweb flies before the eyes― 
 
I go for insomnia to talk 
with invisible in dark. In 
moment’s lapse I become grey. 
 
A life’s learning makes a 
fool of me, hurting myself 
in moonlight. The 
 
abandonment brings fear 
of me. I am ready to go 
to a sheepeater carnivore and lie still.