Poetry

You are becoming a 
frozen leak, the violet 
end. 
 
Ultra was not going beyond 
the zero. Here the― 
journey ends. 
 
Dispersion of light was 
increasing, the surface tension 
between me and religion. 
 
Again you are deflecting, 
taking an oblique route 
to find the truth. 
 
Who was the father 
of an unborn lie? 
I was not expanding any more.