the kabul manifest
there is no stopping
the brutal freight-train of pure muscle
that manipulates billai dhagun
the likes of kabul
a wise old man
the last of the great contortionists
upon a dogmatic path
where many have tried to cross
to capture
to thwart
the shape-shifting
shedding skin
that comes with the immortality
that is kabul
unpredictable in his sudden appearance
disrespectful to the laws of gravity
yellow eyes the dominion
and has kept the old one’s language
his song of slither through the grass
constantly dreaming without horizon or
parameter
uncompromising his force to the marsh
loathing at human tramples
waiting for the hunt at dusk
free in billai dhagun
and honest to his foe
endless in campaigns