We have never felt it sufficient in all this
In blocks of time we had made quite early
One after other, the latest one sticking out
Earlier ones fading away in a dust of time.

 

We have never felt it sufficient to work out
The grand logic of it all, in a clear ontology
A hierarchy of speed, a journey in the wild.

 
A mere outcry, a walk in the wind alone
Over dry leaves that hid a lizard, nothing.
There emerged no poetry in this blind path
Merely a fear of   fears, of death and night.

 

 A piano solo concert, from a friend’s son
A solar energy that flowed from another’s
Were benchmarks, a few lines in the sky,
Ephemeral as eccentric son of other friend
In a clink of bangles, of a gene gone awry.

 
All is in a mind’s dark, in a together-guilt
A son’s failure in father’s life and thoughts.
One does not feel sufficient, father of son.

 

 

 

 

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