A Gallary

In search of greatness,we reclined in this forest_ In a world holding many lives, Playing green with wet land. We refuse the other world Stretching one's legs on a couch Squatting before this, robbing shells with kernel oil: A world of mother hen Tapping earthworm from dry land; A world of stony path, grey hair on fresh born; On fresh born; Of withered flowers and of ashes, Of polar region in winter... A galleon has brought wild berries from the sea: That leaves the mind with sepsis. We in gallantry and in enameled gait Have taken a handful for washing mouth And another to prove our higher birth, Having the sun in our bosom Days have past, boils are broken, Leaving us in a stuck, And the serum from the doom Remind us of where we missed the footwalk.