Ratnarao’s short verse

The key would not turn
I can see through the keyhole
A shadow playing on the wall
The shadow moves towards another
Until they both become one
Playing the same music
Of life and death
Of death-in-life.

An intrepid dreamer brings
Several images in continuation
The flying water and the hills
Later the peach blossom
That has to move with the water
The lights glistened forgetfully
Yesterday over fried potatoes
It was just a whiff of thought
These bones in the clay-pot.

Thinking is so much chemical
The nasty smell of death
Is in boat,earth-pot, and river
It is all a game, my being
Your being and the sky-being
A simulation or something
Mother-love remains and not.