HE was lost that day,
He that knew me well,
Possibly a scarf on a brisk day,
That the earth swallowed with an approving smile,
Fulfilled cheers from previous friends,
HE entered a lambent tomb a Sudra.

A FRIEND was lost that day,
A lost mutt,
In streets of cold stone,
Not unlike Knossos,
A despicable creature yet:
Could he have been the mighty Theseus?
Perhaps the Ceremonial Tayo?
A useful novel,
Could be HE.

Scarf removed,
MYSELF, I emerged warm,
23 degree tilt,
Nothing for the Brahmin,
Life renewed late,
Dues paid with sad epiphany
and future jollity.