Life comes, this time like a teasing dancer,
kissing my still-to-closely held fantasies into a blinding fire.
Then how you ruthless test my will to purify
the addicted, the outward-yearningness within,
still harbouring
the insane hope of personal 'survival'
on this journey.
And how you laugh as I wail in grief,
as I lose 'myself' in your Shiva.
Well, Destroyer of Illusion, you want this plaything?
I must say it's getting to be more of a pain than 'I' can bear....
make me a cheap offer....
you might get lucky.