Monks

ESTRANGED

3rd.march.2015

I observe you walking

in figure eights,

wearing dark monk’s robe

bead after bead falling from your hands

splashing mud of doubt with loss,

an expanding concept

sitting on your left shoulder

mixing up numbers, circles, infinity in your brain,

but you are nothing but tears

pooling around your sandals of exiles,

How funny you are human!

wanting king and pauper disguise

under this roof of depravity,

each breath taken

an edict to sentimentality

whose gun jammed

whose voice had the power of sand,

I saw you floating on water

lily green and brown

sinking.