Hide and Seek

That day,
when the Sun
was about to begin
its game of hide and seek,
the little boy exclaimed.
and his exclaim
got mixed with
zillion other exclaimations
of zillion other little boys
and got fused
in as those little secrets
whispered by twilight winds.

The boy then tied
every tiny bit
of those winds of awe
floating on the cosmic way
to the string
and flew his kite
and tried to block
the setting sun.
but the kite
got struck
into the tree.
The evil wind
plays with the little boy
a petty game of
hide and seek!

Thus, the boy grew up
by questioning his exclaimations.
And by doubting his questions
and by questioning his doubts.
and started playing
with himself
a game of hide
and seek.

And thus,
the cosmos sighed a sigh
with relief.
*-*-*
And he still keeps playing.
But there is nothing to hide now.
except those lost pages
scribbled with pain.
But there is nothing to hide now.
except the blistering self-hate
behind the bruised face.
But there is nothing to hide now.
except the last tinges of vanity
behind the bruised face.
*-*-*
Hang-over.
And watch, Bergman.
Dysentery .
Accompanied with kazantzakis.
Weed.Along with Nick Drake.
Masturbation. And then, Moonlight sonata.
Constipation. And then, read Ken wilbur.
Pornography with Bach.
Puke.Putrid Puke.
-*-*
Whose game is the little boy playing now?
Whom does he play with?
What should he play for?

Yet, He keeps playing.
To Him, it doesn't matter
if there is nothing to hide
as long as
there is lots
and lots
to Seek!

He waits for the angelic sky
to tickle his bruised face
with its rose bud lips
and to drench his thrist
by whispering those ancient secrets
into his dumbded down ears.
And give back
his own piece of exclaim
which once painted the sky
with infinite tones of orange.

And even today
the little one's
primordial sound
of exclaim
is still floating
as those
little secrets
ushered by twilight winds
which keeps the world moving
and makes the sky weep.
*-*-*