Forever the rituals
of hate and love continue.
The sun survives the feet.

You cannot run. It
disconnects you. There was
no beginning, no middle
no end.

Shapeless, unborn figures will
decide the fate of seeds. You
were sowing the bones.

Pulling out the head
of a terrorist from the rubble,
sometimes you forget―

the contours of the enemy.
Existentially you wanted to crack
open the psyche of man.

It was a blue parable.
Do you believe in utopia?