# #betrayal #life #forgiveness #suffering #sadness #pain #mistakes #madness #let me be

The Golden Dust

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The other day. 
A full moon was walking 
on the pavement 
like a pedestrian. 

I was dumbfounded 
at the sight of the imperial walk. 
To give a poetical start? 

Was it a pin drop visual 
with no sound? Only night 
was listening to footfalls? 

I would not know of, 
the journey of ending 
or ending of journey. 

Like death burning 
inside the seed, or a golden 
flame becomes a lapping machine?

Vagaries

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Intimacy in dark 
carries the emptiness, 
pauses in the way― 
under the faint moon. 

A homeless bird heads towards 
the lake. 

Passiflora. 
The flowers remind you 
of crucifixion. 

The human loss was intense. 
The fire within, extinguished. 
No stone was ready to move. 
Do you want the sound to be on? 

The firmness now starts 
melting. A holy river caresses 
the bridge. Shores tremble.

Unknown Burns

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Flawless surrender, 
when the leaves were falling 
of bougainvillea, while 
the hot wind blew past. 
Future enemies were 
ready not to say farewell. 
Overtures were charming. 
When did I want you to go? 
And the dust settled in eyes. 
I implored you till the brink 
of sunset and moon blink. 
Infinitely alarming, it was 
you wanted to rename― the bigotry. 
The crib deaths had started. 
An awkward moment came. 
When you wanted to cry 
and laughed.

Wary Of Tomorrow

Folder: 
Satish Verma

A moth love was evolving, 
without a flame. 
You are going to bang the wall. 

It was too early 
to sing aubade. Night was 
still rolling on the leaves. 

A tall tree failed, 
to send the message of moon drop. 
How will I read my palm now? 

At funeral, a crowd 
waits for the bride. The groom 
jumped off the dam. 

No music was left 
between the lips. Angst 
was palpable in stumps.

Flying Woes

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The cat was finally 
dead. 
After a professional cut. 

An infant injury 
of the cadaver, will not speak 

of the dead river, of elegy. 

No life― 
after the rite of passage. 
You are confined in a coffin 
buried in ice― 
in north and south. 

The space shrinks 
between the screams. 
A syncope overshadows the moon. 
The howling starts.

Nobody Was Innocent

Folder: 
Satish Verma

You were not facing 
the facts to defeat yourself― 
with palm leaves wiping 
away the stains of moon. 
The confessions were not 
valid in light. Darkness will 
decide the fate of an exhibitionist. 
In the game of survival, 
onlookers become strangers. 
You will not stand on your feet. 
Invisible hands clap. 
Sometimes we don't talk and look eyeful. 
I have nothing to begin today 
nothing to finish. 
The sea swells up without a storm.

Invisible Import

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The space had a scent. 
In stunned silence, I will 
speak my mind. 

More was less. Nothing 
stirs, the raging pyre. 
As if the poverty of thoughts had ended. 

The happenings, splinter 
the dream again. Sun steps out 
from the black clouds. 

You find yourself 
interpreting the propelled blaze, 
sleeping amidst the mirrors in dark. 

The bondage jumps the 
boundaries. I am your only 
dilemma. I never speak in whispers.

Finally Injured

Folder: 
Satish Verma

What you did not know 
was the resilience 
of tulips. 

The riots start 
in colors, earnestly. A violent 
outburst of the theme of surrender 
before dawn. 

You kiss the irises, 
blue, violet and crimson 
for nominalism. 

The vision emboldens― 
the wounds, the slit throats― 
to come again for guillotine. 

A sliding blade 
with promise to kill, 
will not move.

Dedication

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Answering your own question, 
wrapping the kill― 
as manifestation of 
God's will. 

The old earth 
still bears the fruits and 
comes face to face with the 
ungrateful human being. 

Not touching your breast, I will 
hear your heart beat 
once-over. 

Before the rains come, 
the rage will sleep with the stones 
and reconstruct a― 
prehistoric fault. 

Apollo wants to leave 
Delphi and become a monk.