The prophecy


Pass me the flatbrush
Lets paint the canvas
Blue,green with specks of yellow
Why don’t you wait with me
And watch the colours
Merge and depart from each other
Like people in a train station
With destinations and journeys
With incoherent apologies muttered for
Stamping over toes and bags

The inherent inchoateness
Of human wonder
Will write prophecies galore
With houses and buildings etched in canvas
In contrasts with varying outlines
And plinths for support
With voyeurs near windows
Through the thick and thin of it all
The walls will close in on the people
Only to give roots that let them soar

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