Homeless wanderer
my bohemian moon...

Before I leave
I will give you my gift...

Aura begins from tongue
to spit fire and frozen rain...

In the triumph of flesh,
when fame of the world was your thing...

Was it a spiritual failure of a man
to become an animal effortlessly...

A candid confession from you,
when your identity started protruding...

Pardon my mask
I will put you on pedestal to torment me...

When glacier recedes,
Your eyes start flowing...

Symbols are true, because they are there.
Your solemn ache...

To become or not to become a renegade,
or to die or not to die for a semi-god...

Answers remain elusive.
Stains were on shirt...

Riding the back of a sensual saint
a white tiger...