Failure

Sound of footfalls was drawing near; the tiger has been set free. In the wild landscape you need some feverfew. Death was constantly stalking to trade off the dolls in lieu of sameness of the stones. The shifting sand drips in the eyes. Face to face we come near the blind ruins of today, denying the questions. Who was responsible for the dark skulls in the ragbag and explosions near the granite temples? Your face was not on the poster, but you write the lessons to interrogate the past. The gods are not visible. SATISH VERMA