Poetry

Today,
go undivine
with me and remain untouched,
in dwindling love of faith.

A forerunner of nothingness
in a theological mess,
breaking the mirrors
in a slaughter house, finding
a god.

Collecting ruins of sounds,
veils, traversing the fecundity
of words, phrases.

Night was encroaching upon.
You hear the destruction of lianas.
Hold your wings
and listen to your blood, threadbare.


Satish Verma