satishverma

BETWEEN TWO CENTURIES

Choice was washing the guilt 
or keeping mind shut. 
Microscopic deterioration 
in the brain had set in. 
The monologue of humility 
was not relevant for the flame ritual. 
They said the death was a dropp of wine. 

Immoral alchemy had 
broken the enormous myth. 
The electrons went crazy, 
they orbited like hungry eagles. 
Truth was never the same. 
Fading age wears new wrinkles, 
black on black rose praises the air. 

The return of grief, was very evident. 
Eyes blinked endlessly, 
I too lifted the pleated pain. 
Enzyme of new creation 
was worthless. 
We were walking 
into an epic, oscillating 
between two centuries.

Satish Verma