A Farmer's Dream

Eye on an Eye is a nuclear illumination,
which floods the tar of victors,
for victory is poison for the heart.
But effulgence blinds; merely shunts away
darker shades of darknesses.
Slow it down,  Dear! The Champion's spark!

The planets are planning conspiratorially.
The meek shall inherit the earth, 
but like Pluto, will be thrown out first.
And the farmer shall palm the seeds
of his future, injecting them into his flesh;
tears from uprooted dreams quenching his thirst.

The crop is him and him is the crop;
fructifying into a culture of thoughts;
the fruits that sapped out his share of the Sun.
The golden ingots - mercantilized sweat,
reach distant lands to shower happiness,
before the latter decides to make a run.

The progenitor, cut up like flesh for the palate,
effuses aroma from the cavities of holders,
where once Eyes stood; now aqueous mirrors.
They block me from passing through them, 
throwing back at me, my own reflections.
When the entire space is filled with me, then
what is light?
what is night? 
Becomes a bit hard to figure.


Image from here.