Joining the names,
a nameless melancholia crosses a borderland,
between dreams & reality.
The stone face, a mask,
some nothingness transcends
the unhearing mind.
Tell me how much
you know about yourself?
Moon shaped pleasures
did not stir me, not ever.
The hours of a dark day moved
in pink fog, my heart
was bruised in a fall.
My infinite failures
saw the inversed truth.
Yellow was the rage, fire.
A perpetual leap from emptiness.
The flames were movements,
towards void.
The thoughts were circling over the flames.
Green windows open, shut, open.
My timeless affair with my self starts.
Satish Verma