A gossamer pyramid of dark tainted leaves
suspended into boiling baptismal water,
releases in a cathartic outburst-
golden whirls of deep, resonant colour;
Transformation begins from within.

Water chooses stubbornly to adhere to its form,
but the vigorous leaves retaliate and
gloriously rise upwards in merrymaking,
chorusing in unity as they are
momentously
drowned out with a splash of cold milk. In the
heated silence of a compacted moment,
a cup of tea is pushed forward into her cold palms.

she sips-
pursed honey stung lips
part with a curious subtlety as
Robust reverberations:
notes of strong black tea, tickle
dormant spheres of her tongue, waking them up
to celebrate the song of new life.

Who am I? Woke up
and left the person I’d been,
lying in a room
I don’t want to cry in-

Can I run at a speed that tears
tears from cheeks,
dispersing them into air like
explosive seeds,
saplings birthing
from different needs,
three people in one bead:

My silence has a time bomb. I’ll
have to speak
or in madness,
I'll squeak.
Lies have numbed me; In

frozen ice
entrapped,
waiting to be dropped into
liquid: I’ll melt,
into something
Moreover,
sometimes I’m crushed
and find myself lower
Man in an ice tray,
where cold air is warmer. If

I had to be born again,
could I not have regained
the body of Bird?
Weak or strong,
flying faster than legs -  
I'll move from one
person to treason-

the body is ageing,
soul travels through thousands
places and lifetimes,
ovr'
lands of lies.