White Shrouds

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The lips will speak 
without sound. 
A tuliped man hangs himself 
down, from a tall tree of fame. 

You wanted to live in the― 
glare of slit throats. 
The blood brings the brilliant 
glitter of gold. 

End of the speech will― 
throw up a mascot. The noose was 
tightening around the― 
rising― glorious sun. 

Slavery never ends. You 
become victim of your dazzling 
peaks, when you stand alone 
at unthinkable heights. 

The spirit of the tree dies in your eyes.