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Bumpy Ride
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Satish Verma It was a lethal dip
in meaningless seduction of
hollow moon.
We were talking of
climactic events of ancient
pains without footprints, in whispers.
There was no issue. No sparring.
You place your ego first,
like the narcissist tendency of
black hole. It was ready
to devour anything.
Vibrations start when in
storm two dark caves meet in
jungle of irreverent words.
The sharp curves will not
take a bone of contention
for nothing.
I will keep on prodding
your stooping shoulders
to stand erect.
Nothing else will count.
