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The Acid Test
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Satish Verma When you stand still
in unbearable agony, the unquiet
dark starts settling
around me.
Why this crisscrossing of
ill-bred beliefs and credences?
Hacking of the circinate thoughts?
After the rolled up,
tip of pain lies in the center.
The dead leaves,
noises of the past-are gathering up
with ugly exhibits.
As origami, you fold it
and put it back
in ice box.There was no need
to decorate the death's crown.
Eyes half-shut
will not see the moon rise.
