colored, hanging

in the garden —

no sin to have them

but critical

you are caught in between

trees, birds

simple words written here and there.


Prophets of the yore

sad —

saints present

bad —

per your benefits.


You are busy

to know the reason,

to pinpoint the misfit

confused, because

you had been acting too

with the same stars

on the same roof;

the sky, the wind

the seas, oceans, mountains

never fell of their planes

and important!

You were reading aloud the same words.


You lost your way

in the clutter of letters

you looked for clarity

you found scarcity in bounty

your hollowness is connected

overlooking a lot of warm sounds

of those performers

who became important,

and whom you wanted to impersonate;

but the travelers

wanted perhaps to trigger your minds

communicating prosperity

but you triggered guns

in their names imaged poverty.


You have done the impossible

credible, you must be


© supratik 2023
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no comments or critique sought.
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