Of many gods,
I chose the rock-cut Buddha.
At night we would talk daily.

Like at talkathon―
I will accept his grace,
to follow my inner voice.

I will narrate about the
walking giants, silent birds,
and weeping Ashokas.

In togetherness we had
separated with hate in
aloneness.

The love bites don't
excite anymore. The religion
of *** and―

religion of war have
become one. I will not
recite any adage now.