Are these rivers on the delta
Or mere collections of spatial rains?
Wrinkled faces garlanded with tears;
Quivering heads, gritting teeth, stunned ‘brows, entwined fingers:
Rites of passage to this passing mirage.
Contemplated comet at the distance now revealed,
Jetting across our vision,
Not even cosmic loam to renowned seers.
“Why this adventure of deceit?” we ask.
Six stairs nether adjudicates life’s wars;
Famous and infamous – the tagging.
Pity! The masquerade now bestrides daylight.
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