Hungry portent generation and promises...

The afternoon had all the calm
The greenness had all the youthful wet
Soft...
A bit watery
But cushion like
Taking in all troubles and stresses...

And a hungry generation kept on
Lingering for more...
And more...
As if desires would die
For more...

And
That yearning surely pains breed
For desires have pains as seeds...

So
he thought of having a test with desires...
he looked at the greeny lustre of youth
And asked her
'Take me where you want me to take...'

And
Next few hours
he had seen
Like an automatic media player show on run
From the central apple tree
To John Milton...
From Prometheus bound and chained
To Jupiter's venomous claims...
From rise of nebula to dead star turning into a tunnel
A spiral reaching to the hell...

And
After that
He heard
Her...
Into his ears drooping down
Whispering an affirmation...
Of an age old dictum:
'Pains portent promesses...'

He realised then exact
What propelled one Shakti Chatterjee
Or Debi Roy...
And
Of course
A mexican
(Who
Once wrote sitting at James Prinsep's tomb
'Eastern slope'
And stuff like that...)
To write horrific bold...

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