Divine Guru – K. B

Divine guru

No one is left in the temple
To kiss his feet,
The god is falling into decay.
No one to listen
To his endless stories,
No one to plan his life
For him,
No one to woe him for attention
The fake god of clay is falling
While Cosmos is breathing in
Me with renewed energy,
While the living universe is vibrating
To the sound of music,
To the various shapes
Of geometry,
To the information
Transfer between protons
While No one takes care of his ego.
Yes, he has been kind
But nothing replaces the innocence
He stole from us late children,
His violence and moody woody
His infinite anger and complaining
A god with horns sent from hell
Nostrils full with the smoke of
Marijuana that make him
A god, bring disciples
And lure the weak in
His contradictions
Making him seem
Perfectly… divine.

K. B

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