It was my commitment which was
following me. I elected the time
not the witnesses.
My fleshless bones were navigating
in pathless psyche for renaissance.
Why do I falter again and again
when judges were becoming the executioners ?
Now I want to remember my shadow
who has fallen behind ; my unwanted digression.
The fury of a ghost weaves black magic.
Fairy tales are dying.
Caught in crossfire, I am wading through
a river of blood and debris.
It was a deep haze
between good and evil.
The arrogance of excuses was hurting.
Exhausted I resume my journey in dark
A candle must be waiting at brink.
SATISH VERMA
