The Acid Test

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.