Poem To Lal Ded

my hunters' bow was bent to shoot - but i had no arrows! instead i had to take my feelings... and then i arched the bow once again. i charged the bellows and my throat with breath but only fire spurted out! now i have to use lava instead of words... my senses fattened like five rams for slaughter - so i fed them the grain of psychedelia; now i see things i shouldn't see... the mortars of love-madness continue their bombardment... i seek shelter... the shelling persists relentlessly - my fortress lie in ruin...