Dots of Thoughts

Dry lands under floods
No more benign rivers
As all turn marauders

Seasonal lines blur
No crispy January mornings
Rains make it cold and damp
A chillier humid wet July
Warm December nights

Smudged circles
Straights for the familiar
Mazes and labyrinth
Questions and elusive answers
Grim reality of our worlds

Judgement Day looms
What moral sins?
Earth’s physical scars
Guarantee hell
Worse than Dante’s
No redemption in sight
Future is death for
Existential reality

No questions of forever
Seekers ever despairing
Thirsty souls
Adrift on shoreless oceans
Beneath green roiling skies

Where dwells the knower?