The malady

A tonsured garden, a deforested place;

in the desert, an oasis still tolerates the sun

heat is reining in every life,

there is no space for anything other than sunshine.

Such kindness of light that burns the impulse

of every kind is the cruelest thing that needs to be deserted.

But every being there has forgotten the art of leaving

it is looked upon as deceitful…

fearful of criticism, the remaining ones are condemned to stay

to be charred to death with the burden of white-hot values,

it is staging onlookers as actors

killing the garden’s character in every minute of the day

that promises no evenings, no nights.

The moon has left the place for good,

there is no room for darkness.

The generosity of the sizzling sun is slowly spreading

its wings all over…golden numbness for sure

has ruined the balance of the Silver Star, beyond cure.