Poezja

It bends― the chastity― 
the illicit vows. O, let me 
become an artisan. I will 
ensue― a new harvest of sandalwood. 
 
Don’t light the joss sticks. 
There is no abstract presence― 
of him. Nobody knows― 
you, better than me. 
 
Search the― 
magnum opus and you will 
find that― man has failed… 
to clear the debris of the Fort. 
 
Strange happenings, still 
take place. Grass is still green … 
in solitude, a poem 
takes birth.