ETERNAL WAIT

Fear of becoming sane 
inherits the hate of earth. 
I wake up in the rains of time. 

Fire of soul 
extracts the thought shapes 
like stark naked truth 
in the desert of pain – 

unbirthing the child of wisdom. 
I hardly think, in my failures. 
The house will go up in blaze 
by the earthen lamp of fading glory. 

There was no light, a quick death 
of lips and speech. The human touch- 
prints had avenged for words. 
Inspiration will wait.

Satish Verma