Brutal Time

Innocent inside the circle, you reached nowhere. Dirty hands on the knob kept the century locked. Carbon footprints were deepening under the sun, blue bird circling in vain. The jealous moon exiled to black hole. The dust of the brutal time settles on the umbrella. I am shivering. The lies, the religion, the horrible facts smell of the million deaths. Who mode the tapestry of violence into boneless truth and hairless legs of prayers? Freedom escapes through the scrolls of flames. SATISH VERMA