Mud Path

Satish Verma

Non-eye vision penetrates. 
The silent song trembles 
I weave a pattern 
to resolve the crisis 
the escape to white 
space was useless. 
The ending of sorrow 
was a movement on circuit 
the center has started vanishing. 

Thinking was preventing 
the completeness of self. 
A single flower is answer of nature. 
The echo of pulsating memories. 
the landscape is full of quotations. 
No one reads. Denials 
and evasions want more attention. 

A new road enters the body 
on the edge of a prayer 
infinitely small, a handful of vowels 
sailing in my mind, 
give powerful eyes to faith. 
The abstracted meaning 
leaves a sweet taste in mouth. 
I lay out a mud path for the reader.