A Yearning

Folder: 
Satish Verma

If hate was becoming an absolute truth 
and love was transcending lies 
where do we go now? 

This daily life, I was seeing 
the pain of troubled identity, 
turning into punishment of unbecoming. 

The hired untruths 
are killing the tender doubts. 
No body wants to look back 
at the subscribers of violence. 

Be my friend. 
Let us go for a pilgrimage into past, 
for a sacred bath. 
Uncovered and naked 
in the hot spring of madness. 

At last we will take the heat of sun 
in open sky, 
manipulate the wind metaphorically 
and sleep in our bodies.