SPARKS IN WOODS

Some depth, 
my thoughts never touched, 
the moonlight fades on my window. 
The vague gratification, 
falls silently on my mind. 
Pausing on relativity, 
I open the door to eternity. 

Vast loneliness of qualms, 
like the cult of dancing doubts 
where was the choice? 
I felt guilty at the fall of truth. 
Black grass was not my doing. 
My blood dripped 
on every count, on every tear. 

I don’t need questions anymore. 
Give me landmarks. 
Darkness was for me. 
I will walk relentlessly 
in search of light. 
Alone, you will remember the fire, 
the spent spark in woods. 
It makes a difference 
when you are picking flowers.

Satish Verma