Satish Verma

While I limp, 
a schizo runs parallel with the moon. 

Climbs the hill 

to sort out the night. Terror. 
The shadows were fighting. The lost innocence. 

Delta was forked, dividing the pain. Sensuous 

bliss rising, falling. 

Where will you go now? Billions of planets wait for your arrival. Einstein 

was calling you again. 
The shards of moon were waterborn 

reflecting in your eyes.