Final Game Poem by SRIRANJI ARATISANKAR

Run.. run.. run..
Running at a stretch from the morning point
reaching on the bank of twilight-lake
Stared at back...
Background grey with dust
Villages, towns, habitations
covered with cloud of dust.
Path-line implied..

Looked ahead; a sloping valley;
What it is?
My mornings as colourful balls
Jumping leaping rushing towards rolled down
My bright noons with shadow
under mango-groves taking a plunge rolled down
My azure myrtle-bower rolling down...laughing
Watching everything with haggard face

Suddenly noticed a large tree over the valley
Neath the gnome sky sat with black star-scar-mark
The skeleton of ‘Brahma' hanging from a branch;
Swinging....

The chromosphere whirling round
Scuttled into the deep..deeper..deepest...