Venom And Stings

Satish Verma

Behind the iron mask, with 
unsteady hands, I 
separate the conjoined thoughts 
and start greening. 

I will ask, the god 
after a chilling spectacle 
of undying freeze, that 
don't give me the bliss, 
but only truth. 

No mercy, no sympathy. 
I will walk on the spiked 
road to reach you in your own 
sepulcher, to become you 
and suffer. 

Who needs eternity 
to grieve for dying lights? 
Darkness has its holiness.At least 
you won't see the beasts in action. 

O god, let the blue sky 
open like an abyss to embrace 
the fallen baby.