Satish Verma

Questions are the answers 
and answers are the questions. 
They never die. The words 
collect the dripping wounds. 
Memories emmigrate to wasteland 
and the city drowns in a lake. 
Our infallible pride has no challenge 
trust the precarious teeth. 

Beyond eloquence life drifts 
from unknown to unknown. 
A fruitless search in a grey winter 
of thinking trees. Tall, 
beautiful, but faith has taken a Uā€“ turn. 
The span of obscurity 
reflects a twisted wisdom 
burning the books of tomorrow. 

The fear, depression 
and brutal game of corruptible views 
I deal with a non-story 
of cultivated meditation. 
The duality of hate 
and love, bread and hunger. 
I stand on a quicksand 
to balance the beach 
and find the missed links.