WHAT COMPARISON?

The displaced years 
cling 
to your body 
like an extended death. 
I wanted to see 
what could not be seen 
by clutching. 
the lifeless doubts. 

Emotions play: 
potentials are threatened. 
Remaining alert becomes a 
punishment. I grieve for the dementia, 
the night yawns. The walking trees 
start swapping the roots. Folds of sorrow 
whisper of morality. 

The apocalyptic prophecy wants to know: 
“Have you ever seen the hell? ”

Satish Verma