Roping in, as if―
all my defeats, creating―
a tiara for a royal fall.
Being hurled
towards the enormous black hole,
chased by the sun.
Like an old thinker
I was putting myself in a
violent comet\'s pathway.
Not being a whole religion
why did I worship a walking stone?
How would I communicate
with my destiny?
I was not born a shining star.
An individual becomes,
an androgyne, unsure
to name the gender.
I am going to honour the talent.