Dread of landscape, lost vision
fear of grave,
though he had loved to love the cosmic eternity,
honored the freedom of death,
aqueduct of life.
Inevitable desires squeezed him,
the dunes were rising.
Who was he to interpret ?
Pain was no celebration.
As yet the genesis was never established;
reincarnation of ugliness
was always evident,
probably a deliverance of nature,
like destroying each other in counter-fights.
A darkness will address the blood
to stop flowing, trust the initials
of light on the leaves of night.
Sun was the ultimate survivor.
SATISH VERMA
