Satish Verma

Time sets upon the arcane taboos 
you wear the unknown fear 
like cowries around your neck, 

a bulletproof jacket did not work, 
the fish in the brain 
was the religion. 

Whom do you trust now 
in the caveful of seekers? They were demanding 
every dropp of your blood from a waning relic. 

Climbing Mt Everest was a raw deal, 
dismantling the heights 
like plasma, as naked as the ice on unmarked grave. 

Hyper-sided, the priest was confused 
in repetition of a prayer, 
and the floor trembled in uplifting the god.