Sin and Prayer

I am pulling out from the committed sin, cadaver walking, digging the gold from the pit. Footwears of dead men were heaped into a pile when god was praying. Was it a perceived tragedy of a man drawing doodles to offset the sunset ? You were alone, dousing the fire and shaping the clay. The hamlet was less inclined to intercede. Your flesh slips from my hands for a rebirth. I was flying a kite. I was dead before you were born again. Satish Verma