Out of Sync on a Summer Evening

the god ran all day in his seven-horsed chariot
chasing shadows all around
o'er vales, hills, hamlets, towns,
shooting light arrows at shadows that ran and fell
ran and fell got up and ran again without a sound

the shadows could not be killed
falling rising falling rising like the demon raktabeej
they laughed and mocked and spat
on the god's beaming face

and the god was wild with rage
his seven horses he whipped and whipped
and whipped till they bled
their blood sprinkling in the sky

now it's the evening here
the god is gone, the chariot gone, the horses gone, too-
a stillness hangs all around
and red stains are over there
I faintly hear a low wail coming from the west ~
perhaps it is the horses' neigh in agony
left behind in the air !
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(A poem written way back in Sept, 1982.)