Poetry

It was a lingering goodbye
for anchor moon
after a religious embrace.
I bid farewell
in the chilling night
for a song of separation.

Where the beginning ends
into a house of distillation.
Blasphemy, where did you find
the anatomy of truth? Mortality
demands a long
journey of tender age in prayers of sprouts.

The eloquence of dictionary
expects the price of hoofs
to stay with otherness.


Satish Verma