Satish Verma

It was a direct hit, 
meeting an immaculate 
moon tonight. 

Was it possible― that 
a star flew off the sky 
to undo something? 

I was the mist, 
and I was the sun. 
Describing the accident― 
not the truth. 

The molester. 
Time, steps out taking a big 
chunk of life. 

Unhinged, a messiah 
drops dead― 
at the door of equity. 

How vain, was the 
ego of man!