Satish Verma

In search of lost 
memory, there was no regret 
of losing any achievement. 
A Buddha was ready 
to walk away. 

Zebra stripes become 
evident at sunset. 
Was there an eye in the eye, 
the smell in the smell, 
of an infant sea? 

There will be no 
ache retrieval. I am dancing 
around the fire, reversing 
a sin. The ugly and weird 
life has become hypocrtical. 

A smoke shapes your preference.