Unjointed Time

Let the untold suffering settle the incompleteness of truth. You have to move out? making space. The empty chair fills in at dark. I talk to my father, daily about the remains of life and falling debris. A son does not want to know the futurity. A dazed poet will write the history of ruins which was younger than memory. A resilience still brings me face to face with the gods of dead souls. Satish Verma