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A Maddening Phase
Folder:
Satish Verma Humanly
a violet river flows
under the earth.
I will convey this
sacred feel by gestures.
I lost you between
the words. The ancient ritual
was to recite the pious hymns
hundred one times.
A goddess mocks
the mortal to go dreamer― for
the moon which never stops smiling.
What was the dream
of huddled thoughts, when
light comes through a small window.
How far the Viola has
fallen? The landing pad
will not receive―
the fugitive guest.
