Rhetoric

We wanted our bodies to be more than stuff
Certain airy things floating on  fluffy clouds
With a stringed instrument slung on shoulders
Chipping away at time, filling night with song.

The bodies spoke rhetoric in the most retro way
As if they were gods wearing unstitched clothes
And marigolds on torsos, signifying something..

Are we not more than stuff, we rhetorically asked
As the imaginary crowd shouted yes in their silence
Amid claps of spiritual hands, in the way of birds
Fluttering in sleep in the lonely trees of midnight.

How are you ,they asked and fine, we are dying.
So are you, we said rhetorically to empty space.
Actually we do not wear anything in such space.
These marigolds signify nothing  , just  rhetoric.
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