Poezja

In twilight of pain
I blink for a dot
to punctuate the intelligence.

My incoherence brings the unseen.
I stay at a vowel
to see the truth.

Immenseness versus depth,
in shoals of turbulent life.
Where do I hide my vessel?

A lure of the exotic death
does not bring the peach color
to reveal the light on earth.

An inverted blankness prints
the words of green bruises,
where the falls meet.


Satish Verma