At a time when there were no roads
no trees, no mountains, no You and I
whoever and whatever there were
were made of fog with our ancestors
sauntering in the haze between death
and birth
You remind me of fossils
the ruins of civilizations the Colosseum
surely they were not vapour you argue
No we are talking about alteration of forms
each of us though fed with same ideas
are made different akin to genetic alteration
You are a riddle you say
How can possibly you and your neighbor
who follows me through the tail of his eye
be made of same material Honey
this is absurd
Rivers meander and so do humans
fog grows as our words merge
with cricket-chirp
