World’s flattery roasted with name and fame
to a peacock heart
is a desire wanting morsel.
unless a slice, millet size, let not
the ignorance of your sensual self
child-like bite its fingers
excitedly in its greed to gobble
on trust of taste. what seems
manifest is but your lust
for the illusory flavour.hidden
is the fire, calmly smoking off
your expectation into ashes
of regret.
Morsel
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