Poetry

I sit in your prayer.
Marygolds clap.
You come and go in dark.

Buddha lies down and
thinks. Why sandalwood gives
beautiful smell without burns.

A room collects
cadavers. You search your
father in ashes.

In the domes your
voice comes back after meeting
God in distress.

Where truth lives? Have
you ever heard of him or
crossed him on the road.