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Deep inside me the clouds thunder I fear for you lest you be blown away with the innocence of nests I live in a world of savages who do not know what lightning can do ( paash) I ask the Sun flying across the sky – Is this what they call time? That events should trample like crazy elephants over all human consciousness? That each question should be no more than an error of absorption in thought? Why are we retold the same old joke every time? Why do they say we live? Think for a moment – How many here have anything to do with the thing called life? What kind of God’s mercy is that which falls alike on hands cracked a