Talking of nameless and unhappy death
I resume the pathos of recluse
if not, what do I do after the sunset?
The shadow themes are picking up and I am saying,
'No, I cannot do it, may not do it, will not do it.'
I have been a drifter,
did not grow roots between the desire and wish.
I had been hopping from a thing to nothing.
Pretending my privilege,
I ask the periwinkle how do you do it,
remaining evergreen?
A smile spread on the calyx the kind of a rainbow.
That was the answer.
No trace of bitterness,
just the innocence after many hurts.
Life prods, life knocks, natural and unfathomed pain.
Must it leave a scar?
Live as you are, I say.
The blackened bread, the fudge,
whatsoever comes on the way the flavor should be sweet.
They are morsels of confession.
