Not A Dream

Satish Verma

Imperfect mating. 
I am lurching forward― 
in a chaotic 

There was no divinity 
in your sinless sprinkling. 
A timeless death was 
the only riposte to ephemeral queries. 

A lif-size God stands 
sentinel outside the museum. 
Only the mortal were 
etched on the walls. 

A pygmy cycas has bloomed 
after a decade. I have come back 
home to collect― 
my belongings of last life.