A PEEP WITHIN

I woke up clutching the dreams 
in deluge of tears. 
Night had a brackish taste, 
the other side of moon was dark. 

One by one the stars were dying 
ideas were no longer candles in gale. 
The final thought of liberation demanded 
a tribute to partners in revolt. 

I wanted a sunlit corner 
in the blighted sky of hopes. 
Instead of scorched impulse of a mob 
injured truth, walking alone. 

Give me a bitter fruit of certainty. 
I don't want to loose myself in fogs. 
The truth must meet the lie- 
alone, in woods of craft.

Satish Verma