evoke a memory, invoke a spirit

and a light comes alive, a temple is built!

how brittle that memory, how deceptive a temple

when all it takes to empty out a journey lived,

when all it takes to deconsecrate a higher power,

to have placeholders plastered on fire.

damp it out, shift away steps taken –

iron out those dusty lanes never touched. with

a grim nod of the head, the scholar touches

a dried out pen: dabs and dabs till the paper

is torn. scribbling away when the exam

is already over. but the idiot struck lottery,

and a pen filled with ink colors the pages of

the man who was never a scholar.

something taken, something given

with roles reversed. acquiesce to the rushing

waves, with ships setting sail – to far off

land where enchantment does not set with the sun.

so very orange, almost red, like a blush

when the sound of galloping horses vibrate

away dull, tepid earth slowly awakening.

the clothes makes a face, the title holds

sway with children fidgeting about in seats

too hot. then the horses neighed, rose high on

hind legs: heads thrown back, eyes towards

a red hot fire cleansing out all that soot plastered

on water adapting to shapeshifters bearing a price tag.

take this, or that. it matters not, with grinning

can do attitudes – the face is unchanging, faith like

innocence that the symbol will hold. it always does.

though the insides rot like bat’s dead while a rat

digs out bones, eager to chew even the bits of flesh

still hanging by a thread. that nudging feeling that

something is quite off, when faces don’t align with

a fire speaking too loud.

another face mimics, then another, then another

till the parade is like a march towards heaven,

or a tower of babel, i know not. for the stomps,

the rallies are uncanny, they rhythm with each other,

with seats catching on fire, then the children jumped

at the heat scorching/lukewarm when.

water adapts to the sky raining luck, a winner hums

to the winds soothing. ice does not melt when

the heat rushes into the heart, it’s long being sullied

that sacred temple with golden calf of every kind,

a curse transforms to a blessing when holy water

touches the eye.

spin away, the rattles are getting more noisy,

with rats finding threads loose. tug, tug away

till the flesh begins to recoil. hardens, then

snaps about when memories try to recollect back

a journey made. it was just swollen with too many cracks,

each a tiny hole in a heart covered in silk. it reminds of.

then the heavy sigh, the next spirit got ushered in

with a nod. a drowsy spell comes about, then the

chains finally made sense. they’re all that block of wood

piled up. each on top of the other. i thought they

should catch on fire, they did not . too stupid to think,

too busy catching the next mimic. like water adapting.

it just keeps adapting till.

the temple, the memories they stopped looking

up at a false sun not breathing fire. blushing away,

then i realized what it was looking at.