Author Information
Sparks In Woods
Folder:
Satish Verma 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.
