Left On the Dunes

Talking points at ground zero trap the heat. The tyranny knows no bounds. Trauma of awaiting liberation was intense. No truth was ready to accept the bends. I feel cheated when, the dark gives a sermon about the hidden dawn. The hair burn in unmade bed, taking a cue from the beast, who will not sleep. Where do the white stars go, when the sun rises ? I will ask the crying lake. Satish Verma