The Snail

And in the distance, the moon was orange, and no one knew who painted it.
Why is this crossing the road now? The snail.
I wanted to save her. Yet she wants to save me instead. To whom should I give my support?
And the baby crawling on the mat — and the heart.

Overwhelmed by proverbs and stuff.
Don’t you know all this?
Yet we still need a person to make us think.
And it is always easier being a third person, offering advice.

Three rows in a day.
And a single miss — it is gone forever.

A dot at the centre, and the petals of thousands.
How does it happen on top of the wet clay?
It was all wrong. All it vibrates from the metal, And the hollow is only for a showcase.

Let it rain, for I want to see those frogs and insects, shouting at night, and getting eaten by the deadly snake.
Let the eagle notice the tiny eggs and kill the little bird.
The lizard waits and grabs the fly at the tubelight.
The cat passes by, and in an instant, grabs the lizard and mouths it for the afternoon.

I killed a myna, while cruising the Honda at 120 kmph.
And it is the stone heart that is the solution to survive in this deadly world.