If God Wills

Satish Verma

In a sneaky way 
I liked to distrust him. 
A between of daemon and man. 

The fake guru. There was 
a covert sign. I can find no name. 
A delicate balance, of standing 
in sun, shadowless, faceless. 

The art of making a night 
of riots with blood splattered roses. 
This was magic. 

The gullible falls, head on, carrying the cross. 
A star crosses the moon. 
A saint was born.