Animation

The animal thing inside: My half-brother, was unsettling me. Over the sunset I watch the drawing procession carrying the dead body of a tiger. The light is fading. The stripes were becoming a myth. The guest was ready to depart. I am holding the molten lava in an urn. In the black sky a satellite burns to undo the grief. There is no death, no stopping. A face pressed between the leaves of a book smiles. You come back to me in rains. I call you by cinders dancing in the mirror of whistling time. Satish Verma