I feel Athena axing at
My temples in a rhythmic beat.
A clever girl, she understands
The wisest, sharpest, focused minds
Derail, derange, deteriorate,
No longer fit as House of God.
She’ll split my head before I sleep,
Emerging clothed in all my mettle,
In all my cunning, loud and subtle,
But till such time, I will endure
This labor so that she matures.
It’s good I borrowed Vishnu’s urn
Of soothing Amrutanjan burn.