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Gayathri


The center of everything
is the glimpse of light
you see
in a drop of dew
off a spruce needle
high up,
and eternity
is the time it takes the drop
to fall to the forest floor

The wink of an eye
is the timespan
between the final breath
of the last Neanderthal man
and your involuntary glance
at your wristwatch,
stepping aboard the subway train

The size of the Cosmos
disappears in your grandma's thimble

Creation is a helpless laughter
across the Mediterraneans

God is someone's last thought

The words I write
are refuges for wild thoughts

Wild thoughts
are the haunted sparks
of glaring galaxies;
the unconscious will
of the elements
spewing out of exploding novas

Lie flat
on the howling breath
of the whining veena of Echampati Gayathri,
the tabla of Chinna Prasad
driving the 18-wheeler of naked sentience
down the long last




Fri vers (Fri form) av Ingvar Loco Nordin VIP
Läst 79 gånger och applåderad av 1 personer
Publicerad 2022-01-25 10:06



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