Seven Gods sat before a Guru,
under the shade of an orange fruit tree.
Three sat with crossed legs in the Indian position,
two lay on their stomachs,
their chins resting on their hands,
one lay on his back with his eyes closed, sleeping,
and the last lay leaning against the orange fruit tree,
with all six of his arms crossed.
Ten black butterflies,
in an atomic crisscross formation, fluttered by.
A dark black-forest encircled the orange fruit tree
standing in the midst a flowery blue meadow.
Sharp mountain peaks, white with snow,
surrounded the dark black-forest, resembling snow-
white arrow-heads shooting at the distant galaxy,
crocodile teeth.
Creamy orange and red marshmallow clouds
filled the brimming sky. An Egyptian king,
mummified, lay in the flowery blue meadow.
Koodli-koos, ran through the flowers in yellow
and wild-crimson feathered masks. Some danced,
while the others skipped around in soothing spirals.
Faint buzzing, hissing sounds were heard by the Gods
in the ripples of the vibrating breezes,
emanating from the dark black-forest.
A luscious chocolate-milk beauty danced
upon the tinkling air, beneath the
creamy red and orange slush of sky;
gliding along the blue meadow,
sometimes picking up a flower
scent as she swung in carousels
round and around and around,
hanging by invisible silver strings
from the star-lit moon.
The sun poured down like rain.
The Guru did not speak.
This was Hell,
and all the Gods were miserable.