Do not capsule what shall capsize,
as such acts would be an injustice-
and capture no such prize.
Ingenuity has remarked withal
that patterns have begun to sprawl
and spire within the sun.
Contort to contend with him,
a placemat for his door,
to spend and sin this time
to win?
Not to the likes of me
my hindu friend has victory
ever underachieved an award
so great in pleasure-
so grand in spirit.
Maybe a certain 50-something-%
will hate, will hang, or hold
it to you for all eternity.
Then, of your own people will
mockeries be made;
examples in wax and artifice,
and mystics used to raid,
rob the blind,
repel the strong
from their heavy heart.
Their heavy mechanical heart
that ticks like a clock,
ticking away endless hours
that are left until
a certain impending doom
will have its way,
will rain someday.
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