A solitary hunter
am I, let me confess,
with a  heart,
pining for  visions of beauty,
fleeting through this ethereal haze.
In my hunting trips I don't ever ****
only cajole
luminous words
that entice me
or striking images
to surrender, that would
become a rapture timeless.
A lonely hunter am I
who goes deep
in to the tangled jungle
of time, unarmed,
walks backwards
and forward
levitates upwards
and some times
zoom down
to capture the moments
defying gravity.
You call me poet,
in fact ,
I am an oracle
speaking in  the syllables
of thunder,
from  the subconscious
for all to hear
prompted by a possession   mysterious
I  still couldn't  discern what.