Nothing about it is permanent except
Going over edge in a Gondwana plain
A ninety feet drop in an abyss of spray
A fog of death ‘s hell, a brimstone fire
Serrated like winter sky , a green bush
Hanging slowly, now here , now gone.
Go down to the hellish depths,in fog.
Look your eyesight up to pure white
Streak from old sky, a permanent sky
Holding no permanent water ,but fall
A fall dizzily impermanent, set in blue.
Nothing permanent ,not even the sky.
(Chitrakoot waterfalls in Chattisgarh)