satishverma

LEAR AGAIN...

It was not worth it. 
Building of castles on the dirty roads. 
Offering spiritual coalition 
of unscented certainties. 

Admission of reversing the course of river 
does not exonerate. 
Mind polluted, face dripping with fantasies 
clairvoyance, but confirming nothing. 

Quasi-tales mingling with facts 
take you to summer of hopes. 
You are not here. I feel a cheap anonymity. 
Charred body, clayey hands building a tomb. 

Frond unfurling from the stump 
gives a clue, without plea. 
Rising from nothingness 
to unending nothingness.

Satish Verma