Epileptic Truth

When I touched your pshyche, my completeness wavered. In the empty words and hollow thoughts. The road to my dream house burned. I longed to meet my flame. You were listening to declaration of truth. It was a refuge, there was no evidence of any movement of humanity. My soft mind took the imprint of golden spaces between the dark alleys of earth. The skeletons of history remained unclaimed. Remembering your trust My attachment floats. Anxiety of seeking. The dust smears the face of epileptic truth. The clogged arteries of mundane heart twitch. There wasn’t room for sentiments. Moment to moment I travelled to break the silence in vain. SATISH VERMA