Poetry

Digging deep into 
the body of moment, you have 
to find out the roots/of dopamine― 
blend of dopa and amine, 
circulating the gossip. It was 
a prelude before a personal take― 
into the consciousness of guilt. 
 
Do you need to bring in 
the demigods and tree nymphs― 
for fertility? The arboreal pain 
sends the apology of the shade. 
There was no need of any limbs to 
walk. Standing on the brink, 
you can reclaim the pyramids. 
 
The precocity of non-existence 
appears, when you start confronting 
the blue lake of tiny eyes.