This Summer

Satish Verma

The candle burns 
your thumb.Night will 
not contain the light. 

How you will write 
the beginning of a tragic tale, 
when you don't know the end? 

Your voice was buried 
in the soundscape of howling winds. 
No star was ready to lift the veil. 
The shadows of unseen are legthening. 
I cross your boundaries 
to know my destiny. 

The woods are smouldering 
without sparks..My fingers are 
singed and feet blackened.The unknown path 
will receive your footprints 
and you would start seeing 
in the rage of night.