Yet again
My nib dances with tears
The Grim's blade smiled yesterday
Duty beckoned - that sweet lure, spelling a sour aftermath
A beautiful bitter happenstance.
A clay colossus
of bare emergence from the potter's wheel
whose firmness owed the sun a little more attention
hugged mother earth with a thud,
Indeed the Sun wept
The moon wore a nostalgic robe.
Tonight is dry, so dry
It could kiss the walls with cracks
The flowing tributaries of cricket melodies have dried up
Perhaps they too know that Johnson danced too soon just before the drums wore their talkative masks
Perhaps he might hear the silent waterfalls from ember red eyes of eager scholars
Or their palpitating hearts reeking with dashed hopes
Maybe he might remember Amarachi's Stories and open those chambers of sight
And say "Its all a joke"
Even I myself bears so much of earthly burden to reconcile your impromptu journey with reality's deep blue personality.



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