Satish Verma

Forever the rituals 
of hate and love continue. 
The sun survives the feet. 

You cannot run. It 
disconnects you. There was 
no beginning, no middle 
no end. 

Shapeless, unborn figures will 
decide the fate of seeds. You 
were sowing the bones. 

Pulling out the head 
of a terrorist from the rubble, 
sometimes you forget― 

the contours of the enemy. 
Existentially you wanted to crack 
open the psyche of man. 

It was a blue parable. 
Do you believe in utopia?