Poezja

Word by word I was drinking
your fathomless pain,
not asking to shine
any prehistoric sin.

You are still flying straight as the crow flies
into timeless grief.

Why we have to suffer in the hands
of tiny barbs?
Who will outlive the wits of ancient insects?
The jungle is spreading far and wide.

With infinite patience
I have been watching the world go by
carrying the pulp of intelligence.

This knocks me down,
the betrayal of blue sky.
A black hole is widening
in the sniffling cosmos,
flooding the desires of flesh.

On dust I sit frightened.
Where are we heading?


Satish Verma