Near waterless stream, trail hopeless rugby feet,

In thin frost, or on the dry pavement, nearby vision

wilt chamberlain, lightning or spotless dark?

Sometimes, yet a strange fatal spark: plugs in thirsty myth

And little fingers crossed together, to enclose the reproach.

Yes, appraise new places like suburbs crafted

Old memories in symbol, memories that are heavy as stone,

Light as feather when exile with great desire,

And I— hope— you, traveller go beneath from torn arms,

Tramping in giddy mud, seeking beyond jagged fog,

Without clues of getting derived,

Vanquished in the forgotten isle.

Change is a strangling cavern wall, where it stands 

With terror sot, trembling hopes lift mighty pot,

And sojourner treads through different knots.

— 15th July, 2023