Across the world
in the curl of a smile
eyes crinkled and engaged
Sagas sung as ragas
going on for ages like bronze
or other forensic terms
pass by in the single beat of a butterfly wing
That which separates the space between us
is the same
as that which supports the illusion
of ever marching time
As I enter the mythical maze
with a smiling ticket
and a pocket full of incongruities
synapses occur
