THE ENVIABLE

A moment of pause was needed 
in the eerie lull after the 
gathering of dreams, to enter 
the corridor of voices. 

We stopped looking through 
our tongues, across the bitterness 
of burning river, after the mud 
in our eyes. 

The black tar of the golden wood 
between us was smearing the family 
of crying pillows. 

All the silver was tumbling 
down from the stairs of calcified 
faces of virgins. 

The god was yet to be born!

Satish Verma