It is the dynamic
…the dynamo
Its moves the definition of
Lustful electric innocence
That core – an alloy
Of the machinery of weakening
Beaten, forced, burnt
Moldable turned durable
Wired around a perennial turnover
Turn – on, off, on again
Many a switch handed over
Burning the probing culprits
For it was never your remote
Neither is it the one-channel tv
Observing its working needs patience, paranoia, distress –
The experiences of maneuvering Kathmandu traffic
Its love of the power show
Will raise your spirit into upper abodes
But the fire within stellarly lit
Falls a hapless victim to the radical self-instability
Explode, destruct, deflate…
Embezzling you deep into underground
What would you know?
The evil black hole swallowed your dynamo again
Courage diffused, its magnet defeated
Those rotations that lit your life
Couldn’t long handle their own
Caught within the viscosity of repetition
Darkness will never be its end
Your dear dynamo simply awaits a spark of an alighted start…
