Oscillation

Seven minutes of terror, and fourth generation of missiles. Can they go together ? And road stops here ? An honour killing will ensue ? Do you think so ? Ethnic hate runs deep in seeking revenge by remote sensing. I miss my ego. The poet’s pride; oscillating between water and beach. There was no boat in sight. Sitting on a rock. I visualize the firebrand west. Moon was rising. There was no rhyming in verse or cascading fall. Any one can climb- the tree and start throwing down the ripe mangoes. Was it a harvesting time of severing the cords. Satish Verma