Poetry

Walking towards you
prudently, lighting
my bones, like candles
in dark.

For salvation. The
lone cobbler cheats on you.
He has placed the rough bricks
instead of cobblestones to cover
the surface.

Healer has become
avenger. Illicitly― drinks
from the virgin eyes, to
be called a survivor.

The cadaver vanishes.
There was no death of
any Fakir. Only flower bed―
will be the last darshan.

You win the battle, waging
inside you and
forget your name.