He decided to rest on the moon and observe man
there was no TV...

He found a new use for his hands
he tore a slice from the atmosphere...

He knew,
he swallowed so much pride his intestine exploded...

God had taken notice of his whereabouts
he was all powerful now...

He wasn't a man
of that he was glad...

Just sat on a rock, moss covered
not moving, be it eyes or tongue...

A thorny red rose
juxtaposes love and pain...

A blank canvas, a cliché on its own
should I paint a heart...

Looking back demoralises
paths trodden that deserved...

Now that man has finalised his beginning
not knowing where nature's lies scream...

Falling during dreaming
kick-starts the butterflies...

My religion is the love shared
between me, my wife and children...