The matrix drinks the words,
in the anonymity of opaque meanings.
Heart slips a flutter,
to catch the unborn tomorrow.
The deep azure measures the depth, the fear,
drowning the architect,
generic of doom.
A dropp floats in an ocean of solitude,
a static milieu which has no quivering of its own.
The roots always give pain.
Your eyes are filled with tears.
Now final image
was a memoir of falling leaves.
The dark effect splinters,
into many seeds.
The space widens between us in a
hush of loneliness.
Egocentric wind scrapes our bones.
Satish Verma