There was a strange carnality
in flowing robes,
a waiver penetrates
in incorporeal ellipse.
I must speak of him in his absence
combating for the actuality.
Knowing lust manifolds,
yields a prayer,
primrose opens the eyes.
The knowledge liberating -
you cross the inlets.
Anxiety peels off your mind.
An obnoxious presence of unbeings,
the weeds, the vocal generation
of priests, are anything but art.
The body blooms, in suicidal note.
Birds shriek, before the moon climbs
on the dark trees. I let go the orange,
only the white spreads.
Satish Verma