A True Deception

Satish Verma

Going to shake my inner world. 
Inconsolable is the loss 
of faithful truth. 

Echo of past comes between the knockings, 
some one shoves a semblance of a riot, 
death is not a ceremony any more. 

Slowly, dark breast of night 
will feed the moon. 
Air will kiss the lips of fire 
and loneliness will take over the heart. 

Not sure of the pattern, and my existence 
first I must look beyond the self 
and find out the forbidden belief. 
I think I don’t trust myself. 

From the smouldering psyche 
the muse always runs out 
falling between vision and confusion. 
Sweet ephemeral strife 
always in toe.