A Tree Was Talking

He returned empty hands. Death was casually running around on charred bodies. Was lank poetry of a ruthless god. The house was on fire after selling its children. The days were becoming longer than life. Casus belli, whom do you want to name the culprit, when everybody was fighting on a new front ? We talk of truth in small tablets, in small moments. The hills were burning, one after the other. Barefoot walking, all mind, mother earth don’t go to sleep. SATISH VERMA