Fate!

Wriggle thee, my child

From the womb

With unconscious eyes.

Pure scent of ‘Tabula Rasa’

Fading away

In front of the wolfish eyes

Of Priests, mentors, messiahs and ideologies.

Total purity

Guillotined in the Garden of Bonsai…

Oozing the immortality

Of utter innocence.

 And throwing the left over

Into the process of Socialization:

Re-incarnating a member

That answers not for nature

But for all the mafia-institutions.

Fate !

Is yours my child !