full moon


moon, what made you blush
when you gazed through my garden
– I or my madness



Aloof, we all mingle, form a machine,
Our touch steely and cold, oiled and sheen.

Electrically charged magnetism works,
We are bound together, nobody shirks.

Tightened with nuts and bolts together,
It is the purpose predefined that holds together.

Highly precarious, it can catch a fire,
If any willful passion amongst us emerges
– Obviously, an outlier.