CHARRED MISTAKES

Inside me, I take a turn. 
By tightening the noose 
hangman feels liberated. 

In the grave, charred mistakes 
waking under the massive ashes 
of slaughtered sun, grieve 

for the light. Time was death. 
Every lovely tree was time, 
leaving footprints on our existence. 

Seeing the stillness in total eternity 
like the calm lake dying on the 
other side of the truth. 

Of the dismembered faith, 
and fear of future, and action 
to move with the higher lies.

Satish Verma