Talking of existence and being,
amidst chaos and misery
my heart aches. In truth,
I become a shred of broken
life. Your integrity at a price,
anything for sale.
How easy we are degenerating,
absent-mindedly we clamour for antidotes.
At least death is not corrupt,
when it eats the age
without a mask.
Seeing without eyes
was a great achievement,
I thought. With no thoughts
I watched the immensity
of truth. My choice always had a wet eye.
When the thinking becomes zero,
I enter from smile to grief
your glance penetrates the wall.
I stumble again in light,
lung filling with verses,
untitled. A moon is going
to be eclipsed very soon.
The fall of a tender doctrine.
Satish Verma