Satish Verma

This shapeless fear 
gives birth to cosmic vibrations 
a prelude to porous thoughts. 
Foreign in pain, a face burns 
in deep meditation. 
Nothing consolates. Hurting 
the contents of judgement, 
a reflexive existence exonerates 
itself from a spiral fall. 

Indecisions of sun 
to penetrate the fissures of dawn 
failed the valley of flowers. 
Aloneness was speechless. 
The shoots plucked 
the sky in flakes. The wind 
played at the mercy of trees. 
The royal departure 
of night sprang a surprise. 

The dying seed had 
a pride to offer. The sprout. 
Nothing is upsetting the garden. 
no one is certain of crazy fate. 
The sap has a sense of liberation 
coming out of conflicts 
and chaos. A communion 
with space takes place.