A Serpentine Adventure

One does not have to go,
Coiled on a one hand
white-tail serpent.
The hennaed hand stops,
But the grim realities stay unchanged.
One then has to go and
See what the lotuses bring out,
Right from the depth of their muddy roots
Sprinkled as dew drops,
Lining the edges of the sky,
Many have gone before, and
I will not be the last.
It is true, one does not have to go,
And yet fate does call.