Laved in wanton shames, Interceding is he between The past and the present. To circumvent splitting Those sealed wounds, The war-ravaged soils tilled Again and once again, He supplicates to those saints And ancient gurus still radiating In the ancient Books so august. Sins, ye sins, still churn In a parasitic disguise and Bore deep into the bones. Sizzled is his soul for a swan song, An everlasting cantata of salvation To expurgate the tenacious spells of curse For being a human longing to be Exonerated from tests of light and dark. A ghastly mirage of egregious mistakes Charges like Medusa's ominous rendition Prefiguring the birth of another wanton carnage Recurring and resonating to the ensemble Of the four seasons in concert – for no reason. Sacrilege of the temple of his faith shall Foreshadow an eternal flames of laments. For the condemned self to consummate An incarnation of nirvana morphed Into the water's transcendental journey, He burns the amphitheater on whose stage He renders another ever repeated interlude Of his divine tragedy – a flow of tragic flaws. --

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