I could sense
a gravitational wave
amending the space and time
when the village light
hit the edge of Sufi eyes.
An officer crow
orbiting around
and a dutiful horizon
painting the cowboy sky.
Warrior fishes
slaving the chaotic tone
of the river
and the bears
muscling up
to edit the food chains and webs.
Local vegetation
stand like the saints
in the Jain monastery
forever grateful to the origins.
Spiritual air
here
can make
even the emperors
wear robes
and cleanse the bloody history.
Thy Vox 
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