We don’t want to see each other naked with our barbs.
Seeking the truth outside our body was painful
we don’t want to change the clouded mirror of water.
The desires were unlimited
and restoring the metaphor needed time.
For contributing for the unbroken becoming.
I held the water in my palm.
It dropped like ciphers on the hot earth
subtracting the charm.
We knew each other,
still falling ego was always revengeful.
My empty hands would seek another title.
A solitary ingredient made the old song.
Few will remember the wings and sky.
The anger’s haste had mauled the body.
Day after day, false claims were made to regain the soul.
The search for the sacred will remain futile
I stared blankly.
