In snow hills one would not know
As white things look synonymous.
It is hard to know black from them.
The waters in them are pure – blue
Carrying away boost downstream
When it has a friend’s brown dust,
Secret energy of our not knowing.
Friend’s fine dust does not know.
Our not knowing is secret energy,
A friend’s fine dust in our streets
Acting like a tube well drill’s dust
In a morning’s eyes for instagram
A grand mist to all confused eyes.
A tube mines a fine dust for water
A kind of mist in the snowed hills
But actually mosquito killer mist.
In the mist one rarely knows who.
After watching a Telugu movie Yevade Subrahmaniam?(who is Subrahmaniam?)