Poezja

Today you were
not you, sitting in your
cozy nest.

Talking of ethics
of pomp and rituals.

Your pageant was
fake. A disquieted observer
was being observed.

Everything is not true.
Sometimes human judgment fails.
You revert ―
to your native sense.

Morality again was nailed
on the stake. You are burned
alive for putting up the acoustics.

You hear nothing
because nothing was said.
A lull before the half-saints appear.