I Begin To Think

Abdicating the shadows; totemic. I return back to dig up the buried- moon from the ruins of poetry. It benumbs. No response was coming from cajoling the black secrets- of time-cast. A storm was raging in a pack of emptiness. Like a dead fly between the pages of skulls. I couldn’t find the exact words. The religion of wish-lists. Can you find the end of desires ? From thought to thought- was there any vision ? Satish Verma