The Seeds Of Our Lips

Satish Verma

I will come and meet 
you in absence of past. 
Why to open the window 
to moon. I was not right, 
not wrong. 

Incensed in endless emotions 
by default. I still love 
my muse desperately, when you 
come and go 
in between the verses. 

The time bars you 
in moments, in twists of puzzles. 
You don't make a move, 
don't fold your wings, 
and cast your spell in the shadows. 

The lost sun of my path, 
sends the fresh, full moon― between 
night and day to blend the pain 
and ecstasy of rapture, of knowing 
the depth of holy lake.