Sonarities echoing
between glass slab walls,
there is urgency in these numbers
lives blind criss-crossing
as thin streams of coincidence,
mere wisps of smoke
on a windy day.
An infinite series of folds
In the unmade bed.
Over there,
Mountains stretch
Distance beyond distance.
Every element
releasing its own song,
the poet too
reaching for his sword.
Mountains, shrouded by mists,
rising beyond curtains of rain,
the body dissolves, atomises,
fragmenting on return
to constituent elements.
Among ancient
walls,
The heart may find
calm,
As mountains rise
and water flows.
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