ENDING OF TIME?

The identity moves ahead 
of the shadow of truth 
I search for the absolute 
in vain. Can I remove the emptiness 
and talk to myself? 
The core feeling is same. 
We flow in our own separateness. 
I want to outlive my brethren 
and eat my death alone. 

Mindful I watch the kernel, 
swaying tree is silent 
I am here due to a fault in the genes. 
Grief is not my skull house. 
Each night I sleep with dry lips 
dreaming a lake. 
My pillow floats like a chopped moon. 

Silence of anonymity 
in the heart of a storm. 
It is a curious apparition. 
The vibrations of distant whispers 
fill up the lungs, 
ripping apart the veins. 
My inside blood utters 
a shrill sob.Where to go? 
We cannot return back. Ending of time?

Satish Verma