The blades swirl in circles
Blowing ash on to my knuckles
The smoke bequeaths me dreams
Who sit with strangers and gleam
Footsteps chronicle their sad tale
To the chasing alpha male
Oh I wish my tale was frozen
And my eyes a helpless sail on the wrecked vessel
A light that could only be whiffed on the shores
And winds that could not hide from the sails…
But Alas the tale traverses into depths,
Where roots of the enemy run deep into the woods
Where the squirrels whisper in the language of wolves…
I see waking up from the shackles
That the blades swirl in circles.

S Unnikrishnan Nair
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