BOLD STEP

Night enters into the drift. 
I get through a fossil, quite beyond 
the light, a search begins for a tortured 
being in some ideal’s mire. 

The battle begins, of fears and doubts 
and upon the trampled sun-blind truths 
of past in dry desert of hungry sands 
where the veined clot rises to the lung of moon. 

Revival of black magic takes place, marking 
the boundaries of denial, you will not cross 
the line of fire, till the shade between evil 
and good was obliterated and sins become 
bones of dreams. 

Will you wait on the gate, till eternity 
accepts you as a forgotten child of 
wronged parents? I shall start calling 
the names of innocent bystanders.

Satish Verma