IN ALONENESS

It was a thorn in flesh 
before our fires met in midstream, 
the waterplant had become untouchable. 

I saw you lying 
behind a thin veil, 
like a prophet, in timeless agony. 


The moon had left a wreath 
for a failed worrior, 
who could not move into the tunnel. 

Entering the childhood again 
to reap the sorrow 
of a dry fountain. 

Ah, in the eternal withdrawl 
I come face to face 
with my dying earth.

Satish Verma