Living Legend

The flame will not die. I pursue the path of smoke the virtue of suffering gives the pure light. The book knows my inside truth and tells no one. I weep for the swallows, I could not feed. I lay one white stone for each death. You will scatter my ashes, in the abandoned land where silence walks and words lie like microcosm of contemporary hunger. Life was a cupful of tears. The voices always spilled challenging the fidelity of flowing water. The living legend turns in grave, I pray for peace I promised myself to stand erect when the quake comes. I will save the flora and the grass of dying earth. I ask for one more life to clear the debt & bleach my guilt. SATISH VERMA