An octopus with thousand eyes and wooden eyelids
The pigeon holes in the night.
There are many shades in them
green, blue, yellow and white.
Lives are contained and
locked up in them
like the meaning in some words.
Every morning there is
a black smoke from the kiln
signaling fresh set of bricks
for the cemetery.
The warmth of the pigeon hole
is a hollowness in the whole
It is soon filled
by the black smoke, tilting westward.
1 comment:
I might not have got the entire intent right, but this was, well, very deep and thought provoking!
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