The dying animal

Desert the keyboard,I shall
for the ink's still wet,waiting
for the birth of the poet.
First,a folded forehead smoothens,
loosens the trappings of knowledge.
Eyeballs and eyelids,
like the baby and its mother,
now like the mother and her baby.
An ever crooning television ,
serves as silence.
Have a good day!
said a man and a radio.
Daddy ,is that the radio-man
Yes son,replied the radio in the man.
Crawling past my pen,
is an ant,a lonely one
probably on a food foraging trip
like our ancestors.
Dodging the paranoid nib,
brave ant,it survives.
fortune favours the brave,innit.
As if in search for someone,
a lizard races up the wall
and so does my eye and
with a heart heavy with envy,
I leave them alone.
While a flickering tube flirts
at once ,with many a moth
a dry leaf drops suddenly
drops not like a stone,
but like a leaf
Gravity brought Newton's apple
alone to the ground,
but god guided my leaf down
give me my god back,Oh Reason,
for another god saved my chivalrous ant
and another brought my moth to the light
but the god who was greatest of all,
He gave the poet the life of
the animal man refused to be
But as he let go his pen again
he rejoined his dead brothers walking.