Thinning Life

Undating the memories
in final push to cauldron, I said:
let the words burn to ashes, 

In terminal journey,
of eternal flight.
You turn a blind eye to sun’s venom. 

Moon, the blue baby in a casket
rubbing the white clouds
for a trek to intoxication. 

I ignore the opium field,
to collect the bullets
and bones of infants. 

Seeking peace in a simple
shade of hymn,
Perhaps stars are listening.