Expressions

this summer is not hot,only the remembrance
the leaves are sometimes dripping with dew
by the road tall thankful trees stand
their dignity enhanced by the shrubs under dust
the city sits lazily in the afternoon
in unfinished perfection, under a coat of fine dust
in the car the poetry book crackles
under heavy ego and self glorification
Sanchi's golden brown stone dust settles
on the beauty-things of the hazy mind
here in the attic of the mysterious mind
the evil man cometh rankling, digging
the black coalmines of despair and darkness
our weapons are only a few mantras
clouded under black coaldust, saying sorry
somebody close to us is dying, surely
the clouds are ominous all the time
laden with bloodlust and bellyache
in the pit of my stomach is vomit-disgust
now the rains are here ,balls of snow
we catch them in our palms ready
only they are slipping through the spaces
we cannot hold our fingers together
and our white- clouded glory fizzles soon.