On the seamless limit

as far as any eye can see,

where the land touches the sky

and the sky flows into the sea:

Grazes a distinctive sheep

Stygian as the night,

there are other sheep too

but only one black in sight.

Lone in the vista

shifting away,

it is soon lost

just out of its way.

It’s journey will however end

easily in this facade,

a missing black sheep

and a horizon all charred.

Infinities are calling others:

the other black sheep,

they jump over fences

they move by taking leaps.

Soon the limit is smudged

with turbulent grays,

grays that grow larger

with the ever passing of days.

Soon they are everywhere

yet each and every is lost,

freedom was the motive

and their identities its cost.

Later when the shepherd will come

and call for its beloved flock,

words will silently echo back

like those on an uninhabited dock.

His sheep are lost in trees

and in nature till its death,

the sheep have flowed down the rivers

and are coalesced in my breath.