Widening cracks ,   leaking roofs

choked drains in the courtyard

water logging and myriad

such small things make rains a pain

there’s no romance in rainbow

I can’t shape colours of morning

morning shapes my colour:

I’m the victim of my views

that shape my head each day

realities and yoga conspire

drinks and pills deride from clothesline

flowers and trees speak in grey

compost of years oozes no wisdom

whatever the poetry , it stinks

idols on the beasts and cattle

overload the carriage

I can’t deliver the burden

prostrate and worship

touch the feet,   foolishness

make me small  , frustrate

sitting in the dust ,  degrade

it’s long fog ,  with blurred sight

virtually blind ,   no seer

no revelations