AVALANCHE

A hand wipes away the dried tears,
chemistry working.
Somebody puts a hand on the globe,
gives a strong twist.
Flesh helps to forget the agony.
I squeeze the heart,
smell of pain wafting through the pores.

Despair and solitude maintained contact with me
I go blank, cease thinking,
graze melancholy.
Listen to humming of bees in the ears.
Scrawl a note on existence,
of a dropp which started an avalanche.

Talking of sensual divinity
and neutral attachment
a river moves on bald terrain.
Somewhere the water in the eyes dries up.
The salt remains, burns the cold prayers.
The hawks move in a swift dive.

Satish Verma