# #betrayal #life #forgiveness #suffering #sadness #pain #mistakes #madness #let me be

In Hurling Light

Folder: 
Satish Verma

I will speak less
when words exhaust to find
the meaning of life.

Break a heart to drop
the pride of climbing pink
rose on the white wall.

What was left in
my brown eyes to see a river
weeping in the desert.

After Rebirth

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Want to celebrate
each day in mud pack. Life rewards
one day daily. My bones glitter.

You trespass the deep
pain and my words bleed.

How come we move nearer
to each other after the fall
to search oneself.

Where the love goes
when a ghost takes
hold of you.

In Ignorance

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Become a friend of
yourself in light as a stranger,
without sexism.

I celebrate the fall
of towers. You cannot make
a big hole in blue sky.

Can we hold hand
like sun and moon entwined
together in twilight of sunset?

Call Of Faith

Folder: 
Satish Verma

What a lovely thing,
moon meets the sun in sky.
Were you sober today?

Your almond eyes
ultimately meet the destiny.
You tie a knot in tresses?

It is true you will
go far where an asylum of
trust waits for a blessed one?

Metaphysics Of Shrine

Folder: 
Satish Verma

It was heart-wrenching
when you wanted to leave this earth,
by royal grave or by burning ghat.

Did you ever come
out from yourself, to find the
meaning of life versus death?

Mathematics of love
was a dark matter. The loneliness of
success had made you a purdue.

Collective Loss

Folder: 
Satish Verma

In grey zone of life
I find you under bodhi tree
searching footprints of Buddha.

In war we take off
our shirts chasing the pain of
poverty. Do you doubt yourself?

In grief I was learning
from you. How to paralyze yourself
in voices of fake slogans.

In Your Own Temple

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Between direct and
indirect lies futurism. How
to take on the inevitable?

Will you leave my
hand? I asked the scented wind.
In sanctuary god takes turn.

You speak via eyes,
how to live in sanctum sanctorum
without dying?

I Don't Know

Folder: 
Satish Verma

It was most beautiful
your broken heart
in the grip of twilight.

Who speaks the truth
after gaining the heaven a
double edged sword cracks.

I cannot decide
who wins and who lost
in the war of words.

In My Painting

Folder: 
Satish Verma

You pry out my eyes,
when I look at your hands,
which were rough and cracked.

Were you digging
your future? Pomegranates
always left red scars.

Don't ask the god
who was helpless, sitting
on sun to cool you.