The wait begins adorned with symbols 
for shadow to fall 
between hope and pretention. 

The moon will talk 
when the dew returns 
and clouds are hiding. 

He will come in a black cloak 
for a final assault 
with broken promises. 

Is he untouchable? 
You cannot embrace him? 
Walks like a ghost between me and you. 

Our past, open-eyed, the truth 
happens on road 
in crowd, in our home.

Satish Verma


  • baj-a

    such an ethereal mystical quality to this beautifully penned poem that it takes the reader to a higher place.

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