Poetry

The philanderer―
an anti-man, comes for regaining
moral conscience. I
pledge my peels.

Ocimum was not ready
to marry a giant tree.
This war will never be over.

The skin, the deep voice
within, were wakeful in dark. There
was no hope to revive the naked soul.

The sea and the whale.
Competing for death-dance.
Blue sky kills the stars.

Now I will become mute,
watching the jewel-thief…
taking away the golden calf.