Turning the pages of the book
Reading between the lines
Full of mental notes jotted down
Dog eared pages in between
Reminder of the favorite passages
Leather bound covers
Held the secrets of the words
Reading them many times over
Yet the mind is insatiable
Reading all over again, cover to cover

Standing here in this celestial space
A small stage in the cosmic arena
Looking up at the vast canvas above
Wondering, what I may stumble upon
Is there a replica of this planet anywhere?
Or, am I lucky to inhabit this isolated planet?
Where we have only each other to rely on
And the only place which harbors life
And let go of our delusion of supremacy
For, we maybe all alone in this universe
Maybe, we do not understand it yet?

I have no complaint
prosperity that
the golden Muses
gave me was no
delusion: dead, I
won't be forgotten

And their feet move
rhythmically, as tender
feet of Cretan girls
danced once around an

altar of love, crushing
a circle in the soft
smooth flowering grass

We are not in this to save ourselves
or maybe the only way to save ourselves
is to lose our bodies.

Let the wolves have our flesh
if that is what they want
and if they are hungry.

We are not fighting because we are hungry.
In fact, we are not even fighting
because we don't want to fight anymore.

There is plenty for all.

The main trait of man,
driving the modern "free" world,
pride is what we want,
blood and death is what we get,
war is us and we are war.